- black & white anthology 2-17
- getting back the bitter from the sweet
black & white anthology 2-17
2
my eyes are hanging on the line
i am afloat
BAY VIEW HOTEL room 2
cheap if you bring your own
woman
nothing goes fast in this town
except the man who repossessed the aircondition machine
not
even the dogs blistering in the sun
oh me
I’m just hoping the end comes soon enough
3
the Company dug an oil well
(or 3)
wel well well
(oh well)
& the Czar of Petroleum came
to shovel dust
from that hole in the bay
. . .
ever since that day, alas
alas
alas
alas
that day
4
no food in the house of ill-repute
no men in the fields
no, you cannot
support yourself on emptiness
5
bubut
there is a lady
close here beside me
she wants to learn some
words of low English
to help her trade rise
when she’s on the docks . . .
that Doctor Dooley,
the famous travelling
pathologist, showed
her
a
trick:
see,
she
sticks the light socket
deep inside of me
I watch the mirror
m e t e m p s y c h o s e
dd.
& I curse for hours
6
that pusher at the bar
who gave me her number
number 69 (ah)
God knows I should suppose
have left her long ago,
she is a crowd alone
she moves in fast & swart
pushing over pennies
on the tracks, nonetheless
7
daybreak : dada & views of the bay
8
I say hello to the sunshine
how nice to have you here
ignore my bile, oldtimer
since the stars
split us
oh
north &
south
tell you one thing however
this one here (gestures)
is gonna be
(PAUSE)
my last duchess
(coughs)(reaches for the horehound)
for I declare (declares)
: we are no longer strangers!
9
(mouth is unaware
of the quality
of its owner
10
her voice is like some angel picking at the door
her voice is like some angel (spits)
in some whore’s caravan park saying
‘it’s $20 for a blow job, Mac’
oh she
(laughs like a cracked mosque)
oh she burns
really
she rides the trade winds
like the early winter rains . . . (it never rains)
11
thought
that knows not
where it goes,
the father
of lassi-
tude
12
CONFESSIONAL:
I have been in strange places
for all I knew
I heard a singing dancing man
called The Mystic
of the Cow’s Mouth
one day
he said to me like this :
13
14
the appearance of your lover
should be
as though
a flock of white swans
had suddenly
run into
a flock of black swans . . .
15
ho the Ides of March has found us here
& the dope has all
given out
ain’t
no
horse,
ain’t
no
grass
69
we are going stone for broke
belly & tits!
let that silk hat mob
carry us away
16
(THINKS TO PIST MISTERS)
white horses
leaping round
the corner
white horses are a sort of virtue
she gallops
a wide horse
to the sun
policecar’s red light on the mirror
a fearful
wailing in
the alley –
sweet daddy must be on his rounders,
male nurses
stand with hats
over hearts
2 red dogs move against a white wall
17
(these people will never
understand
over there
death lies there
in wait, the
pleats of your
overcoat
Black & White Anthology (Hawk Press, 1976). Recorded 1974 in Auckland (Waiata Recordings Archive) by Alan Brunton from an earlier version of the published sequence.
getting back the bitter from the sweet
(for David)
when you are standing one foot in the grave / you can see for the first time
how the other half lives /
they call me the priest / little darling I keep walking down
the road
and I try / I try to look wellheeled pretty mama / but
I just look wellthumbed;
she walks with me along beside my road / sally rosewater and me looking
at green shadows / and all fall down all fall down
there is something in the bones / sally go round the roses
they call me the priest for I am wellrehearsed at the laying
on of hands
a silver piece a tuppeny loaf / I drink red wine with her
and that’s cool / sally / go round the roses
& bring back some unmarked planets for me
there are ulcers ln yr breadbasket & a curse upon yr coin
you call this vino burgundy / but it sure tastes
like spring medicine to me
there is rising damp in the universe / listen Mr Clean / there is a canker where the mainbraces meet –
this town is getting pretty hot / we will
have to jump the fence
it’s not so far to heaven where the winds of change are kept
they call me the priest because I know which way the jury is
going to swing;
here is vinegar for your gangrene but you better call it bordeaux red if you ever go to france
I try to say in perfect clarity a few allusions down to earth for you / so get to your feet
(there are signs of things to come)
the higheeled highrolling wind roughhanding it through the trees / white bark long trees
and certain birds
they call me the priest / I keep walking in circles / walking in circles of obscure selves
sally / go round the roses / go like the sunflower when morning breaks
don’t scratch in the ground / pretty mama / for dead things
are lying there
they call me the priest:
(yeah)
they call me the priest
Unpublished. Recorded 1974 in Auckland (Waiata Recordings Archive) by Alan Brunton.
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