#1, September 2005
A mountain and sun and deep sea

October 30, Oakland, noon.
#1, October 2005.
Tell me a story,
Tell me a story,
Tell me the story
I know that I will hear:
Old Age.

I know this will be the story because I see youth was the story in my young manhood (the paintings of sailboats setting sail for the sky, of the homestead Joey America built for Venus Genetrix), so it must be when I am old that my story be Old Age.

November 3, Oakland.
 Oh, be, be, be...
I opened some notes from many years ago
and found a dead gnat among the pages…
We are like the gnat once shining alive in the world,
Now dead and brushed away from pages folded and forgotten.

November 5, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, October 2005 became tonight
a statement so simple that it could only be true.
It will not be eradicated—all I ever wanted
was to make myself whole again.
 
November 6, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, October 2005. Just get rid of the garbage (the chatter).
Old men need only a word to say life ineradicable in the mud.

November 16, 2005
#1, November 2005.
“Out of the earth that covers me…”
I will rise
Flesh become fire.

Q. When dong is gone and eyes are going, what’s left?
A. Flesh become fire.

…and how many times have I made this image—
the dear old cock with wings: me.)

November 19, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, November 2005.
“I don't know how to do it,” became, “do it.”

November 22, 2005. Oakland, night.
#2, November 2005.
The music ended with a consolation among the dolphinsin the ocean depths… life does not. The death of a person is absolute,
and the text of the painting is

Death
end end
end

 That’s what the painting said in the beginning and at the end.
(That does not mean give up during life, only that
the end of my life is the end of my life.)

The music ended with a sob.

#2, November 2005 becomes “the spiral of the eternal come.”

November 30, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, December 2005.
Oh, just dump on it, make blue
like yesterday’s lecture (Color Us Blue)
to the Night Painting class.

When you get to the bottom, do it!

December 2, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, December 2005.
It’s only going to suck you in and you’ll never come out.

 One single red slash... Well, not quite.
I got to come on the dark to make it light.

Oh you Great Cunt of the World, hear my song.

Hey, there, for the last stroke,
“Cosmic Cunt’s got to be alive!”

December 3, 2005. Oakland, early evening.
#1, December 2005.
Go ahead, kill the juice.

I don’t know anymore what it is, just leave it.

December 5, 2005. Oakland, night.
#1, December 2005.
Looped to infinity.