Where Flesh Circulates Poem by William Burroughs

Its so hard to remember in the world - - Weren't you there? Dead so you

think of ports - - Couldn't reach flesh - - Might have to reach flesh from

anybody - -

And i will depart under the Red Masters

for strange dawn words of color exalting their

falling on my face impending attack satellite in a

Gold and perfumes of light city red stone

shadows brick terminal time wet dream flesh creakily the

the last feeble faces fountains play stale

spit from crumpled cloth Weimar youths on my face

bodies where flesh circulates Masters of color

exalting their dogs impending attack of light

unaware of the vagrant shadows on the Glass and Metal Streets

silver flying scanning patterns electric dogs

dark street life "Here he is now" staring out

from the dawn he strode toward the flesh jissom webs drifting

where identity scarred metal faces masturbating

"Who him?" spitting blood laugh on the iron afternoons

ejaculates wet dream flesh in red brick Terminal Time

red nitrous fumes under the orange gas flares

grey metal fall out on terminal cities

to the shrinking sky fading color sewage delta

caught in this dead whistle stop post card sky

dead rainbow flesh and copper pagodas flickered on the

in a city of red stone black skin work fish smell and

dead eyes in doorways red water words spitting blood laugh

sharp as water reeds fish syllables

stirring this Moroccan sunlight vagrant noon station

spent in the mirror dawn jissom webs drifting rainbow

speeded up from afternoon's slow ferris wheel flesh.