Victory
By September 3rd I had made my bundle
Of boards and a bag of nails. America, I was high
On Okinawa, with the fleet lying on its back
Under me, whispering “I can’t help it”
and all ships firing up fire
Fighting liquids sucking seawater, hoses climbing and coloring
The air, for Victory. I was clear-seeing
The morning far-seeing backward
And forward from the cliff. I turned on the ground
And dug in, my nails and bag of magic
Boards from the tent-floor trembling to be
A throne. I was ready to sail
The island toward life
After death, left hand following right into the snail
shelled ground, then knocking down and nailing down my chair like a box
seat in the worldwide window of peace and sat and lay down my arms
On the stomped grains of ammo-crates heavy with the soles
Of buddies who had helped me wreck the tent
In peace-joy, and of others long buried
At sea. The island rocked with the spectrum
Bombardment of the fleet and there I was
For sure saved and plucked naked to my shirt
And lids. I raised my head to the sun.
What I saw was two birthdays
Of boards and a bag of nails. America, I was high
On Okinawa, with the fleet lying on its back
Under me, whispering “I can’t help it”
and all ships firing up fire
Fighting liquids sucking seawater, hoses climbing and coloring
The air, for Victory. I was clear-seeing
The morning far-seeing backward
And forward from the cliff. I turned on the ground
And dug in, my nails and bag of magic
Boards from the tent-floor trembling to be
A throne. I was ready to sail
The island toward life
After death, left hand following right into the snail
shelled ground, then knocking down and nailing down my chair like a box
seat in the worldwide window of peace and sat and lay down my arms
On the stomped grains of ammo-crates heavy with the soles
Of buddies who had helped me wreck the tent
In peace-joy, and of others long buried
At sea. The island rocked with the spectrum
Bombardment of the fleet and there I was
For sure saved and plucked naked to my shirt
And lids. I raised my head to the sun.
What I saw was two birthdays
Back, in the jungle, before I sailed high on the rainbow
Waters of victory before the sun
Of armistice morning burned into my chest
The great V of Allied Conquest. Now it was not here
With the ships sucking up fire
Water and spraying it wild
Through every color, or where, unthreatened, my navel burned
Burned like an entry-wound. Lord, I deepened
Memory, and lay in the light high and wide
Open, murmuring “I can’t help it” as I went
South in my mind.
Waters of victory before the sun
Of armistice morning burned into my chest
The great V of Allied Conquest. Now it was not here
With the ships sucking up fire
Water and spraying it wild
Through every color, or where, unthreatened, my navel burned
Burned like an entry-wound. Lord, I deepened
Memory, and lay in the light high and wide
Open, murmuring “I can’t help it” as I went
South in my mind.
Yes, Mother
there were two fine hands
Driving the jeep: mine, much better than before, for you had sent
Whiskey. What could I do but make the graveyards soar! O you coming
Allied Victory, I rambled in the night of two birthdays
Ago, the battle of Buna stoned
In moonlight stone-dead left and right going nowhere
Near friend or foe, but turned off into the thickest
Dark. Ob, yes, Mother, let me tell you: the vines split and locked:
About where you’d never know me is
Driving the jeep: mine, much better than before, for you had sent
Whiskey. What could I do but make the graveyards soar! O you coming
Allied Victory, I rambled in the night of two birthdays
Ago, the battle of Buna stoned
In moonlight stone-dead left and right going nowhere
Near friend or foe, but turned off into the thickest
Dark. Ob, yes, Mother, let me tell you: the vines split and locked:
About where you’d never know me is
Where I stalled
and sat bolt upright in the moonlit bucket
seat throne of war
cascading the bottle to drink
To victory, and to what I would do, when the time came,
With my body. The world leapt like the world
Driving nails, and the moon burned with the light it had when it split
and sat bolt upright in the moonlit bucket
seat throne of war
cascading the bottle to drink
To victory, and to what I would do, when the time came,
With my body. The world leapt like the world
Driving nails, and the moon burned with the light it had when it split
From the earth. I slept and it was foretold
That I would live. My head came true
In a great smile. I reached for the bottle. It was dying and the moon
Writhed closer to be free; it could answer
My smile of foreknowledge. I forgot the mosquitoes that were going
Mad on my blood, of biting me once too often on the bites
Of bites. Had the Form in the moon come from the dead soldier
Of your bottle, Mother? Let down in blocked
out light, a snakehead hung, its eyes putting into mine
Visions of a victory at sea. New Guinea froze. Midair was steady
That I would live. My head came true
In a great smile. I reached for the bottle. It was dying and the moon
Writhed closer to be free; it could answer
My smile of foreknowledge. I forgot the mosquitoes that were going
Mad on my blood, of biting me once too often on the bites
Of bites. Had the Form in the moon come from the dead soldier
Of your bottle, Mother? Let down in blocked
out light, a snakehead hung, its eyes putting into mine
Visions of a victory at sea. New Guinea froze. Midair was steady
Between. Snake-eyes needle-eyed its
Lips halving its head
Stayed shut. I held up the last drop
In the bottle, and invited him
to sin to celebrate
The Allied victory to come. He pulled back a little over
The evil of the thing I meant
To stand for brotherhood. Nightshining his scales on Detroit
Glass, he stayed on and on
My mind. I found out the angel
Of peace is limbless and the day will come
I said, when no difference is between
My skin and the great fleets
Delirious with survival. Mother, I was drunk enough on your birthday
Present, not to die there. I backed the jeep out
Of the Buna weeds
and, finally, where the sun struck
The side of the hill, there I was
back from the dark side
Of the mind, burning like a prism over the conquering Catherine
Wheel of the fleet. But ah, I turned
Lips halving its head
Stayed shut. I held up the last drop
In the bottle, and invited him
to sin to celebrate
The Allied victory to come. He pulled back a little over
The evil of the thing I meant
To stand for brotherhood. Nightshining his scales on Detroit
Glass, he stayed on and on
My mind. I found out the angel
Of peace is limbless and the day will come
I said, when no difference is between
My skin and the great fleets
Delirious with survival. Mother, I was drunk enough on your birthday
Present, not to die there. I backed the jeep out
Of the Buna weeds
and, finally, where the sun struck
The side of the hill, there I was
back from the dark side
Of the mind, burning like a prism over the conquering Catherine
Wheel of the fleet. But ah, I turned
I sank I lay back dead
Drunk on a cold table I had closed my eyes
And gone north and lay to change
Colors all night. Out of the Nothing of occupation
Duty, I must have asked for the snake: I asked or the enemy told
Or my snakeskin told
Itself to be. Before I knew it in Yokohama, it was at my throat
Beginning with its tail, cutting through the world
wide Victory sign moving under
My armpit like a sailor’s, scale
By scale. Carbon-arc-light spat in the faces of the four
Men who bent over me, for the future lay brilliantly in
The needles of the enemy. Naked I lay on their zinc
Table, murmuring “I can’t help it.”
He coiled around me, yet
Drunk on a cold table I had closed my eyes
And gone north and lay to change
Colors all night. Out of the Nothing of occupation
Duty, I must have asked for the snake: I asked or the enemy told
Or my snakeskin told
Itself to be. Before I knew it in Yokohama, it was at my throat
Beginning with its tail, cutting through the world
wide Victory sign moving under
My armpit like a sailor’s, scale
By scale. Carbon-arc-light spat in the faces of the four
Men who bent over me, for the future lay brilliantly in
The needles of the enemy. Naked I lay on their zinc
Table, murmuring “I can’t help it.”
He coiled around me, yet
Headless I turned with him side
To side, as the peaceful enemy
Designed a spectrum of scales O yes
Mother I was in the tattoo parlor to this day
Not knowing how I got there as he grew,
Red scales sucking up color blue
White with my skin running out of the world
Wide sun. Frothing with pinpricks, filling with ink
I lay and it lay
Now over my heart limbless I fell and moved like moonlight
On the needles moving to hang my head
In a drunk boy’s face, and watch him while he dreamed
Of victory at sea. I retched but choked
It back, for he had crossed my breast, and I knew that manycolored snakeskin was living with my heart our hearts
Beat as one port-of-call red Yokohama blue
O yes and now he lay low
To side, as the peaceful enemy
Designed a spectrum of scales O yes
Mother I was in the tattoo parlor to this day
Not knowing how I got there as he grew,
Red scales sucking up color blue
White with my skin running out of the world
Wide sun. Frothing with pinpricks, filling with ink
I lay and it lay
Now over my heart limbless I fell and moved like moonlight
On the needles moving to hang my head
In a drunk boy’s face, and watch him while he dreamed
Of victory at sea. I retched but choked
It back, for he had crossed my breast, and I knew that manycolored snakeskin was living with my heart our hearts
Beat as one port-of-call red Yokohama blue
O yes and now he lay low
On my belly, and gathered together the rainbow
Ships of Buckner Bay. I slumbered deep and he crossed the small
Of my back increased
His patchwork hold on my hip passed through the V between
My legs, and came
Around once more all but the head then I was turning the snake
Coiled round my right thigh and crossed
Me with light hands I felt myself opened
Just enough, where the serpent staggered on his last
Colors needles gasping for air jack-hammering
My right haunch burned by the hundreds
Of holes, as the snake shone on me complete escaping
Forever surviving crushing going home
To the bowels of the living,
His master, and the new prince of peace.
Ships of Buckner Bay. I slumbered deep and he crossed the small
Of my back increased
His patchwork hold on my hip passed through the V between
My legs, and came
Around once more all but the head then I was turning the snake
Coiled round my right thigh and crossed
Me with light hands I felt myself opened
Just enough, where the serpent staggered on his last
Colors needles gasping for air jack-hammering
My right haunch burned by the hundreds
Of holes, as the snake shone on me complete escaping
Forever surviving crushing going home
To the bowels of the living,
His master, and the new prince of peace.