H e a r t   S o n s   &   H e a r t   D a u g h t e r s   of   A l l e n   G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m   H e a l t h   S p a :   R e p o r t   2 0 1 4 :   A r c h i v e s   E d i t i o n






Coloring The Gongs

for Anne Waldman again



Isabella has been pencil coloring the gongs in my copy of your Structure Of The World

Compared To A Bubble. She colored the gongs in the lower left hand quadrant of the Diamond

World yellow. That was all she did with that page. She colored more gongs some red some

blue. The red ones were aspiring action. The blue––ritzy coastal areas & urban abandoned

houses. She was coloring the gongs black when no one said death is part of love part of a

relationship part of the empty throne part of a helpful dream. The inherent nature of all

phenomena is pure. light hanging on cracking branch over the abyss that sounds like awe

letting go beyond all the Jealous Hell Gods all the weariness of wanting anything. She colored

the gongs green while someone was releasing classified military information someone was

saying the source of pink oil barrels from other countries is the march of armageddons caught

in the ten thousand hands made visible to save the world. She colored the gongs white empty

of manipulation, empty of too much industrial information never enough wrathful deities never

enough first arisings, never enough Strange Liberties In Whom The Hopes Of The World Are

Joined those passages about fables of identity being only “a representation that interrupts

itself.” She was sent as a messenger to the fur-covered human female living at the center of

the universe. One of her duties was to combat the slave trade. Left on an uninhabited planet,

with only the supplies she could carry, her ordeal was shifting among worlds, losing all she

possessed each time.


4 March 2007



[Originally published in NHS 2007, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs07/Jim_Cohn.htm.]