Mockingbird Wish Me Luck Read Online Free PDF

belts and rugs and vases and
    coffeetables,
    the dead dance with the dead
    the dead sleep with the dead
    the dead eat with the dead.
     
 
    the dead get hungry looking at hogs’ heads.
     
 
    the dead get rich
    the dead get deader
     
 
    those sons of bitches
     
 
    this graveyard above the ground
     
 
    one tombstone for the mess,
    I say:
    humanity, you never had it
    from the beginning.
     

the hunt
     
     
    by god, it was a long day
    the 3 horse broke down
    the cook burned his hand,
    e. pitts was recalled from the sandlots
    because the regular back had a
    hamstring,
    and the grunion ran again
    through the oily sea
    to plant eggs on shore and be caught
    by unemployed drunks
    with flopping canvas hats
    and no woman at all.
    offshore you could see the lights of a
    passing yacht
    with a party on board,
    lots of girls and jokes and the
    rest,
    and they put the 3 horse in
    the truck, carried him away from the
    crowd and shot
    him, little things like that and other
    things
    are what sometimes create unemployed drunks
    with flopping canvas hats,
    sans woman,
    trying to grab for
    grunion.
     

the big fire
     
     
    I’m on fire like the cactus in the desert
    I’m on fire like the palms of an acrobat
    I’m on fire like the fangs of the spider
     
 
    I’m on fire with you and me
     
 
    I’m on fire walking into a drugstore
    I’m on fire I’m on fire
the girl hands me my change and
laughs at me
     
 
    I’m on fire in my bed alone
    I’m on fire with you
     
 
    I’m on fire reading a book
    about Trotsky, Hitler, Alexander the Great,
    anybody at all, any walking living dead
    human once upon the
    earth
     
 
    I’m on fire looking at the grass
    I’m on fire looking at birds sitting on telephone wires
    I’m on fire answering the phone—
I leap straight up when it rings
I am burning
     
 
    I’m on fire looking at velvet
    I’m on fire looking at a sleeping cat
     
 
    I am a helpless burning thing
    among other helpless burning things
     
 
    I lay on my left side and look at the tombstones
    then I lay on my right side and look at the tombstones—
    they are all
    burning
     
 
    I’m on fire putting a stamp on an envelope
    I’m on fire wrapping garbage into a newspaper
    I’m on fire with heroes and dwarfs and poverty and hope
    I’m on fire with love and anger
    I’m on fire like a bat hanging upsidedown
    like a bellboy hating the rich and smiling at their tips
     
 
    I’m on fire in a supermarket
    watching a most womanly woman
    bend over to pick up some potato salad
     
 
    I’m on fire like a scissors cutting the eyes out of the sky
    I’m on fire like onehundredthousand monkeys boiled into one heart
    and sobbing through centuries of
    hopelessness
     
 
    I’m on fire like a clean sharp knife in a kitchen drawer
     
 
    I’m on fire like a beggar in India
    a beggar in New York
    a beggar in Los Angeles…
    the smoke and burning rises
    and the ash is crushed under…
     
 
    I’m on fire like the circus that went away
    the champion who quit on one knee
    all burning
    all alone
    all one
    ash
     
 
    I’m on fire like a dirty bathtub in a lonely roominghouse
    I’m on fire like the roach I kill with my shoe
     
 
    I’m on fire with men and woman and animals
    who are being tortured and mutilated in dark and
    isolated places
     
 
    I’m on fire with the armies and anti-armies
    I’m on fire with the man I hate most in the world
     
 
    I’m on fire without a chance
     
 
    the fat is in the fire, the lamb is over it
    the sacrifice seems forever
    the enduring seems forever
    the sun is on fire…
     
 
    and the glazed horizon is red
    and the weeping
    and the weeping
    and you and me
     
 
    the sun is burning everything:
     
 
    the dogs, the clouds, the icecream
     
 
    the end
     
 
    the end of the stairway
    the end of the ocean
    the last scream
     
 
    the bug in the jar
    spouts into flame
    and the inside of the skull
    gives up
    at last
     
 
    the smoke blows
    away.
     

ww 2
     
    since fact is an