A ~ Ferlinghetti Memorial Supplement ~ 60 Narrations
Syndic Literary Journal

Ferlinghetti Memorial Supplement ~ Euphoria

Euphoria

Narrated by Tony Dawson

Spain

Euphoria (English)

As I approach the state of pure euphoria

I find I need a larger size typewriter case

to carry my underwear in

and scars on my conscience

are wounds imbedded in

the gum eraser of my skin

which still erases itself

As I approach the state of pure euphoria

moon hides hot face in cool rice rain

of Chinese painting

and I cannot sleep because of the thunder

under the summer afternoon

in which a girl puts on a record of

crazy attempts to play a saxophone

punctuated by terrible forced laughter

in another room

As I approach the state of pure euphoria

they are building all the cities now

on only one side of the street

and my shoes walk up sides of buildings

leaving tracks of windows

with their soles of panes about to crack

and shoe-tongues of roll-up shades alack

I see my roll-up tongue upon a string

and see my face upon the stick of it

as on a pendulum about to swing

a playing-card image with bound feet

an upside-down hanged Villon

And Mama recedes in a hand-held photo

and Dad is named Ludwig

in a lost real-estate project ended in water

Saratoga Avenue Yonkers

where I now hang and swing

on a last tree that stands drinking

and where I’d still sing partsongs

in a field of rapture

but an angel has me by the balls

and my castrato voice comes out too small

with a girl that puts a laughing record on

in another room

As I approach the state of pure euphoria

my eyes are gringo spies and I

may anytime be changed to birds

by a Tungus explosion that controls time

but I am no apocalyptic kid

and cannot sleep because of the thunder

under the summer afternoon

and my dumb bird’s eye starts

out of my head

and flies around the world

in which a girl puts on

her record made of flesh

And I am animals without clothes

looking for a naked unity

but I’m divided up into countries

and I’m in Tibet on potato legs

and am a strange kind of clown

with befloured face and hair plastered down

and cannot sleep because of the thunder

under the needle my flesh turns under

She has turned it on

She has turned it over

She has turned me on

to play my other side

Her breasts bloom

figs burst

sun is white

I’ll never come back

I wear Egyptian clothing

 

 

 

 

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