I was a white Karankawa
Berkeley, 1962
And studying the grace dynamic
Of polymer
Before the elder plane of pines.
Out of hotrod climes I came
To the roast of Bob Hope
In a rubber Frankenstein mask
And a shriner’s fez
And I dreamed of Jeanie
In a gourd of purple smoke.
I was a white Karankawa
Riding an alligator
Through streets of wild sensational
Dread with Doctor Strange comics
Rolled up in my cutoff hodad dungarees
I idolized woodies, and tikis
And surf music.
I dreamt of lost cizilivations
Of glowing green eyes
Before pandoran antiques
Cracked open like fruits
To reveal their chaotic
Incantatory mechanical seeds.
I was an Atlantean Karankawa
In Dealey Plaza
Feathered in emerald quetzal blossoms
I hovered invisible before the violence
Of history
No bullet knows my name
My larynx is a crystal hive omen
Pulsing light and sound
And time and space.
I was a clean cut American lad
Out cruising, drinking, carousing,
I came from the land of Goliad
And Krill and Brill and Crème
Were my guitar air castle quixotes.
I was a white Karankawa
But all the dumb luck in Palestine
And Dorian Grey
Could not keep me from being swallowed
By this Mysterious Island
And the jewels of virne revenge.
My life was a ve've',
A chiro-spa..
