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Life Begins Where It Never Ends

(put on black robe)


Speed ends desire as the turning over of the fire deepens

crashing into the wall of beginning

who built the wall, there was

nobody here before us.

We are the major pigment in the painting of ourselves

the font of holy wisdom, the font of fonts

the fountain of fountains:

how dare these be a precedent before us?

We have already written the definitive text of our exact God.

Who dare question who we come from.

Just because we speed ahead & crash into a wall

doesnt mean the wall exists.

We wont have it. God wont have it.

Louie wont have it. Louie wrote the text of our one & only God.

Louie, Herbert, Bruce, & Joe.

They say no. Our God is Hullabaloo.

And it will always be Hullabaloo.

Those pigmy perverts who live on the other side of the wall

they worship Whooey. Whooey Youee Whooey! We say

We dont consider them at all. The infidels.

The lost. The damned. Theyre in the Hell theyre going to.

But well get them to worship Hullabaloo, before were through.

But the wall doesnt exist at all.

Nothing came before us, as Louie Herbert Bruce & Joe

have written down the word of Hullabaloo

when Hullabaloo said start, we started.

When he say dont pick your nose, dont defecate in public.

We dont do it. It is the line of wisdom straight back to his heart.

There is no wall before us, no other creatures, no other history

but what Louie Herbert Bruce & Joe have avowed

Written down from the mulling face of God, Hullabaloo.

Oh the wall is speaking. It cant! The wall we ran into

does not exist.

"We are bacteria. Back to bacteria. (sing in 2 tones)

The wall of beginning. And ending bacteria."


larry goodell / placitas, new mexico / from Escape At Home

/poems 2005

My altar is destroyed, my heart is baloney,

whats left of my mind?

I hold on to fragments of resentment

left over from intense regrets.

Where my soul was is a loose drapery

and the rest of the house is vacant.

God dissolved, God dissolved

and joined the infinite pillage

of former gods.

Friendship dried up on a rock,

the marriage became routine duty

in spite of all the true feelings.


I keep imagining a purification ceremony

I could set up in a field, a cleared area,

my altar of painted sticks set up there,

and I could enter and kneel to the

precious bowl of water,

feel the breeze of Ehecatl over me again

and wait for a sign that never comes,

but at least be open to it if

my heart was still beating.


                     Note: Ehecatl (Ay-hay´-catl), Aztec wind god.






larry goodell / from Foxhole Prayers, poems 2009

(I paint sticks for peace of mind.)

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