Where Flesh Circulates

Tags: , ,

A Poem by William S. Burroughs

Its so hard to remember in the world – –   Weren’t you there?        Dead so you

think of ports – – Couldn’t reach flesh – –       Might have to reach flesh from

anybody – – 

           And i will depart      under the Red Masters

           for strange dawn words          of color                      exalting their

           falling on my face   impending attack         satellite in a 

          Gold and perfumes          of light              city red stone

          shadows brick terminal time             wet dream flesh            creakily the

          the last feeble faces             fountains play stale

          spit from crumpled cloth               Weimar youths            on my face

          bodies           where flesh circulates             Masters of color

         exalting their dogs      impending attack of light

         unaware of the vagrant        shadows on the Glass and Metal Streets

         silver flying   scanning patterns    electric dogs

         dark street life   “Here he is now”       staring out

         from the dawn           he strode toward the flesh     jissom webs drifting

         where identity       scarred metal faces      masturbating

         “Who him?” spitting blood laugh on the iron   afternoons

          ejaculates wet dream flesh          in red brick Terminal Time

          red nitrous fumes  under the orange gas flares

         grey metal fall out               on terminal cities

         to the shrinking sky fading color   sewage delta

        caught in this dead whistle stop                     post card sky

        dead rainbow flesh             and copper pagodas                flickered on the

        in a city of red stone       black skin work fish smell and

        dead eyes in doorways red water words             spitting blood laugh

        sharp as water reeds      fish syllables

        stirring this Moroccan sunlight           vagrant noon station

        spent in the mirror          dawn jissom webs       drifting rainbow

        speeded up from afternoon’s       slow ferris wheel          flesh.

Originally published in Floating Bear 24 in September-October 1962. Republished by RealityStudio in August 2010.

One thought on “Where Flesh Circulates

  1. William Burroughs is a kind of avatar for me because I have been inspired by his prosaic writing style, and his insights into the hidden aspects of so-called “reality” have given me a brief glimpse of what the world really entails, and how I can better function in said world of thoughts and perceptions.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *