On the steps of the bright madhouse I hear the bearded bell shaking down the woodlawn the final knell of my world I climb and enter a fiery gathering of knights they unaware of my presence lay forth sheepskin plans and with mailcoated fingers trace my arrival back back back when on the black steps of Nero lyre Rome I stood in my arms the wailing philosopher the final call of mad history Now my presence is known my arrival marked by illuminated stains The great windows of Paradise open Down to radiant dust fall the curtains of Past Time In fly flocks of multicoloured birds Light winged light O the wonder of light Time takes me by the hand born March 26 1930 I am led 100mph o’er the vast market of choice what to choose? what to choose? Oh ——— and I leave my orange room of myth no chance to lock away my toys of Zeus I choose the room of Bleecker Street A baby mother stuffs my mouth with a pale Milanese breast I suck I struggle I cry O Olympian mother unfamiliar this breast to me Snows Decade of icy asphalt doomed horses Weak dreams Dark corridors of P.S.42 Roofs Ratthroated pigeons Led 100 mph over these all too real Mafia streets profanely I shed my Hermean wings O Time be merciful throw me beneath your humanity of cars feed me to giant grey skyscrapers exhaust my heart to your bridges I discard my lyre of Orphic futility And for such betrayal I climb these bright mad steps and enter this room of paradisical light ephemeral Time a long long dog having chased its orbited tail comes grab my hand and leads me into conditional life
You can find this poem in Corso’s great book — Mindfield: New and Selected Poems (New Directions Publishing Corporation, 1989)
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