Read Online The Wild Boys by William S. Burroughs - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: William S. Burroughs
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score he turned into a side street and the lake wind hit him like a knife … a lost street of brick chimneys and slate roofs … heavy blue silence … lawn sprinklers summer golf course …
The Green Hat
folded on her knee.
4. Four ornaments going away red, blue, green, gold … freckles, autumn leaves, smoky red moon over the river
“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame And I haven’t got time for a waiting game.”
Cab stopped just ahead under a street light and a boy got out with a suitcase thin kid in blue prep school clothes familiar face the “Priest” told himself watching from a doorway reminds me of something a long time ago the boy there with his overcoat unbuttoned reaching into his pants pockets for the cab fare … blue magic of all movies in remembered kid standing at the attic window waving to a train … a sighing sound the empty room … distant smell of weeds in vacant lots little green snakes under rusty iron … pirate chests pieces of eight on golden sands … urine in straw … the Traveller walks on and on through the plain of yellow grass. He stops by a deep black pool. A yellow fish side turns in the dark water.
1. Red ornament coming in … red leg hairs rubbing rose wall paper … Irish terrier under the Christmas tree … light years away the pale skies fall apart. T.B. waiting at the next stop. Spit blood at dawn. I was waiting there.
“Doctor Harrison. They called me.”
Led the way up … stairs worn red carpeting … smell of sickness is in the room.
2. Two ornaments coming in one blue one green … blue evening shadows a cool remote Sunday … dead stars drifting … twisting coming in green brown rectal flesh grass stains on brown knees.
3. Three ornaments coming in red, blue, green … smell of roses, carbolic soap … there was nothing for me to do. Spit blood at dawn. Agony to remember the words … “Too late” … German living room outside the China blue northern sky and drifting clouds … bad seascapes of the dying medical student.
“A schnapps I think Frau Underschnitt.”
Room over the florist shop flower smell green curtains … He was a caddy it seems. His smile across the golf course.
4. Four ornaments coming in red, blue, green, gold … heart pulses in the rising sun … smell of raw meat … the heretic spits boiling blood … 18th Century room … snow at the latticed window … fire in the hearth … An old gentleman wrapped in red shawls is measuring laudanum into a medicine glass … Have you seen Patapon Rose? … blue shadows in the attic room … the boy’s picture is framed in forgetme-nots … dust on the broken greenhouse … in the ruined garden a pool is covered with green slime … thin blond boy … sunlight in pubic hairs … I remember daffodils and yellow wallpaper … a gold watch that played “Silver Threads Among the Gold” … an old book with gilt edges … in golden letters … The Street of Chance.
----
Dim far away the Star of Bethlehem from the school play.
----
The Miracle of the Rose
June 23, 1988. Today we got safely through the barrier and entered the Blue Desert of Silence. The silence is devastating at first you drown in it our voices are muted as if we were speaking through felt. I have two guides with me Ali a Berber lad with bright blue eyes and yellow hair a wolfish Pan face unreadable as the sky. The other Farja of a dusky rose complexion with long lashes straight black hair gums a bright red color. We are wearing standard costumes for the area: blue silk knee-length shorts, blue silk shirts, Mercury sandals and helmets. The Mercury sandals and helmets once fitted are never removed. We are carrying nothing but light mattresses, mess kits, rations of dried fish, rice, peppers, dates, brown sugar and tea. It is a beautiful country and the predominant color is blue. Like many so-calleddeserts it is far from being a desert. There are wooded areas and we glimpse bodies of water from time to time. In the
The Green Hat
folded on her knee.
4. Four ornaments going away red, blue, green, gold … freckles, autumn leaves, smoky red moon over the river
“When the autumn weather turns the leaves to flame And I haven’t got time for a waiting game.”
Cab stopped just ahead under a street light and a boy got out with a suitcase thin kid in blue prep school clothes familiar face the “Priest” told himself watching from a doorway reminds me of something a long time ago the boy there with his overcoat unbuttoned reaching into his pants pockets for the cab fare … blue magic of all movies in remembered kid standing at the attic window waving to a train … a sighing sound the empty room … distant smell of weeds in vacant lots little green snakes under rusty iron … pirate chests pieces of eight on golden sands … urine in straw … the Traveller walks on and on through the plain of yellow grass. He stops by a deep black pool. A yellow fish side turns in the dark water.
1. Red ornament coming in … red leg hairs rubbing rose wall paper … Irish terrier under the Christmas tree … light years away the pale skies fall apart. T.B. waiting at the next stop. Spit blood at dawn. I was waiting there.
“Doctor Harrison. They called me.”
Led the way up … stairs worn red carpeting … smell of sickness is in the room.
2. Two ornaments coming in one blue one green … blue evening shadows a cool remote Sunday … dead stars drifting … twisting coming in green brown rectal flesh grass stains on brown knees.
3. Three ornaments coming in red, blue, green … smell of roses, carbolic soap … there was nothing for me to do. Spit blood at dawn. Agony to remember the words … “Too late” … German living room outside the China blue northern sky and drifting clouds … bad seascapes of the dying medical student.
“A schnapps I think Frau Underschnitt.”
Room over the florist shop flower smell green curtains … He was a caddy it seems. His smile across the golf course.
4. Four ornaments coming in red, blue, green, gold … heart pulses in the rising sun … smell of raw meat … the heretic spits boiling blood … 18th Century room … snow at the latticed window … fire in the hearth … An old gentleman wrapped in red shawls is measuring laudanum into a medicine glass … Have you seen Patapon Rose? … blue shadows in the attic room … the boy’s picture is framed in forgetme-nots … dust on the broken greenhouse … in the ruined garden a pool is covered with green slime … thin blond boy … sunlight in pubic hairs … I remember daffodils and yellow wallpaper … a gold watch that played “Silver Threads Among the Gold” … an old book with gilt edges … in golden letters … The Street of Chance.
----
Dim far away the Star of Bethlehem from the school play.
----
The Miracle of the Rose
June 23, 1988. Today we got safely through the barrier and entered the Blue Desert of Silence. The silence is devastating at first you drown in it our voices are muted as if we were speaking through felt. I have two guides with me Ali a Berber lad with bright blue eyes and yellow hair a wolfish Pan face unreadable as the sky. The other Farja of a dusky rose complexion with long lashes straight black hair gums a bright red color. We are wearing standard costumes for the area: blue silk knee-length shorts, blue silk shirts, Mercury sandals and helmets. The Mercury sandals and helmets once fitted are never removed. We are carrying nothing but light mattresses, mess kits, rations of dried fish, rice, peppers, dates, brown sugar and tea. It is a beautiful country and the predominant color is blue. Like many so-calleddeserts it is far from being a desert. There are wooded areas and we glimpse bodies of water from time to time. In the
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