Anti-Poem - Snaking It To Venice

Anti-Poem — “Snaking It To Venice” (Poet’s Instruction: Play “The End” by the Doors loudly, while reading this anti-poem) it’s you and me baby inside this gliding duster this ’74 green plymouth cruising machine blasting spit fire and gasoline grenades into the LA sun snaking it to venice on the santa monica freeway passing pillsbury billboards and green verdigris doors music playing loudly on the duster radio dial taking us past the santa monica civic auditorium our rock pleasure palace under the ocean stars fronted by the six high dudes straight as spears— pylons of steel drum solos and marijuana memories standing upward like skinny giants waiting to eat hippie dudes and the bongo kings stand out front polka-dotted chicks smile and pass running joints we’re riding the snake babe riding on main street looking for the rock gods behind beaming glass walls looking to hear boogie music with the mind jive girls the van chicks craving a bong hit of columbian gold looking to groove on organ sonics that weaken you kidnap you with handcuffs for a ransom of lost time now jim morrison shimmies into view with a beer the boys play the end again in 1967 with amps blaring the vox organ humming out electric mind lacerations as Ray Manzarek sits upright again on the melting stage dig it baby, dig it there are no tomorrows no endings it’s just you and me baby snaking it to venice beach passing the dream palaces lit up with phosphorescence the sun pole-dancing there doing the cosmic bend-over the ’74 duster blasting spitfire and gasoline grenades