eBook - ePub
The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millennium General Assembly
Poems Collected and New
This is a test
- 240 pages
- English
- ePUB (mobile friendly)
- Available on iOS & Android
eBook - ePub
The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millennium General Assembly
Poems Collected and New
Book details
Book preview
Table of contents
Citations
About This Book
From the award-winning poet and novelistāa must-have collection of his four previous books of poetry plus a selection of new, unpublished work.
Frequently asked questions
At the moment all of our mobile-responsive ePub books are available to download via the app. Most of our PDFs are also available to download and we're working on making the final remaining ones downloadable now. Learn more here.
Both plans give you full access to the library and all of Perlegoās features. The only differences are the price and subscription period: With the annual plan youāll save around 30% compared to 12 months on the monthly plan.
We are an online textbook subscription service, where you can get access to an entire online library for less than the price of a single book per month. With over 1 million books across 1000+ topics, weāve got you covered! Learn more here.
Look out for the read-aloud symbol on your next book to see if you can listen to it. The read-aloud tool reads text aloud for you, highlighting the text as it is being read. You can pause it, speed it up and slow it down. Learn more here.
Yes, you can access The Throne of the Third Heaven of the Nations Millennium General Assembly by Denis Johnson in PDF and/or ePUB format, as well as other popular books in Literature & American Poetry. We have over one million books available in our catalogue for you to explore.
Information
THE VEIL
ONE
The Rockefeller Collection of Primitive Art
Solter my neighbor rocks his lover through the human night,
softly and softly, so as not to tell the walls,
the walls the friends of the spinster. But Iām only a spinster,
Iām not a virgin. I have made love. I have known desire.
I followed desire through the museums.
We seemed to float along sculptures,
along the clicking ascent
of numerals in the guardsā hands. Brave works
by great masters were all around us.
And then we came out of a tunnel into one of those restaurants
where the natural light was so unnatural
as to make heavenly even our fingernails and each radish.
I saw everyoneās skull beneath the skin,
I saw sorrow painting its way out of the faces,
someone was telling a lie and I could taste it,
and I heard the criminal tear-fall,
saw the dog
who dances with his shirt rolled up to his nipples,
the spiderā¦
Why are their mouths small tight circles,
the figures of Africa, New Guinea, New Zealand,
why are their mouths astonished kisses beneath drugged eyes,
why is the eye of the cantaloupe expressionless
but its skin rippling with terror,
and out beyond Coney Island in the breathless waste
of Atlantia, why
does the water move when it is already there?
My neighborās bedsprings struggle
āsoon she will begin to screamā
I think of them always
traveling through space,
riding their bed so
softly it staves the world through the air
of my roomāit is their right,
because we freely admit how powerful the sight is,
we say that eyes stab and glances rake,
but it is not the sight
that lets us taste the salt on someoneās shoulder in the night,
the musk of fear in the morning,
the savor of falling in the falling
elevators in the buildings of rock,
it is the dark that lets us it is the dark. If
I can imagine them then
why canāt I imagine this?
Talking Richard Wilson Blues, by Richard Clay Wilson
You might as well take a razor
to your pecker as let a woman in your heart.
First they do the wash and then they kill you.
They flash their lights and teach your wallet to puke.
They bring it to you foldedāif you see her
stepping between the coin laundry and your building
over the slushy street and watch the clothing steam,
you canāt wait to open up the door when she puts
the stairs behind her and catch that warmth between you.
It changes into a baby. āHereās to the little shitter,
the little linoleum lizard.ā Once he peed on me
when I was changing himāthat one got a laugh
from the characters I wasted all my chances with
at Popeyeās establishment when it was over
by the Wonderland. But itās destroyed
now and I understand one of those shopping malls
that are like great monuments of blindness
and folly stands there. And next door,
the grimy restaurants of men with movies
where they used to wear human faces,
the sad people from space. But that was never me,
because everything in those days depended on my work.
āListen, Iām going to work,ā was all I could say,
and drunk or sober I would put on the uniform
of Texaco and wade into my life.
I felt like a man of honor and substance,
but the situation was dancing underneath meā
once I walked into the living room at my sisterās
and saw that the two of them, her and my sister,
had turned sometime behind my back not exactly
fatter, but heavy, or squalid, with cartoons
moving across the television in front of them,
surrounded by laundry, and a couple of Coca-Colas
standing up next to the iron on the board.
I stepped out into the yard of bricks
and trash and watched the light light
up the blood inside each leaf,
and I asked myself, Now what is the rpm
on this mother? Where do you turn it on?
I think you understand how I felt.
Iām not saying everything changed in the space
of one second of seeing two women, but I did
start dragging her into the clubs with me. I insisted
she be sexy. I just wanted to live.
And I did: some nights were so
sensory I felt the starlight landing on my back
and I believed I could set fire to things with my fingersā
but the strategies of others broke my promise.
At closing time once, she kept talking to a man
when I was trying to catch her attention to leave.
It was ...
Table of contents
- Cover
- Title Page
- Contents
- The Man Among the Seals
- Inner Weather
- The Incognito Lounge
- The Veil
- New Poems
- About the Author
- Other Books by Denis Johnson
- Copyright
- About the Publisher