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  Dear Mr. Berry,

Mr. Gysin and I have returned from the dead in order to express our admiration for your fine poem, "Penuel." There is enough magic in it to fuel fifteen stregas piled on top of one another doing tricks.

Our colleage Ms. E.B. Browning writes,

               Earth's crammed with heaven,
    And every common bush afire with God,
    But only he who sees takes off his shoes.

We have, I assure you, learned to take off our shoes lately. That we have also occasionally dropped our pants as well is an indication of the seriousness with which we take this matter of poesie. As I said of another work, "Hell, it rhymes, doesn't it. It's poetry." Not that rhyming is a necessity. I have been reading recently (yes, the dead read but not with their eyes, you sort of sit on a text, if you understand me) that the recent findings of modern so-called "real" science are in complete harmony with "spiritual" science. "The Carboniferous Period of the former is the Lemurian Epoch of the latter." This seems satisfactory to us but not as satisfactory as your poem, which is considerably better written than this New Age crap.

               one kiss of the hag
    like sucking on leather

               but she rides your chest
    and bestows her private knowledge

has a ring to it which Ms. Browning's lines lack but it is in the same ballpark if you understand me. Ms. Browning's bush is no doubt more afire with God these days than it was when she was associated with the celebrated poet of the masculine persuasion, Mr. Browning, whose dong was we understand of an enormity matched only by the size of his pineal gland, organ of the spirit.

In homage to your poem and its varied and interesting references to such things of the spirit Mr. Gysin and I have produced the following cut-up. In Heaven (yes, we are in heaven where we were somewhat surprised to discover that our friend Mr. Kerouac was right all along in his opinion that there wasn't anything else but heaven, we having been of the contrary opinion that there wasn't anything else but hell) however, here in H cut-up is the method of ordinary communication, the speech, so to speak, of angels. Nobody understands a goddammed thing, but you are after all in Heaven so communication isn't really uppermost. We are all (even Truman Capote) basking in the eternal Bliss, you understand. But the poesie here is a little pallid compared to your section of Cielsville. Not many of these winged faggots would be capable of

               the skirts
    of goldflower
    nitrous alive,
    a harvest sorrow

The color of the Father Fire is blue; Neptune's light is blue;the reflecting ether correlated to the Father is translucent blue; and when the pineal gland is aroused into action its color vibrates to a beautiful dazzling blue. The awakening of the pineal gland is of the utmost importance in developing the masculine, positive will power of the Spirit. The awakening of the keynotes of the ductless glands is very closely associated with Initiation, and is one of the Spirit's most valuable aids in its preparation to receive initiatory work. Three great lessons. Imperative that the individual get control of his mind. Concentrating the spirit. Might conquer the material world. Jehovah God and delivered to the people by. Cannot get control of the mind by expending just a little effort. In the future the ductless glands are destined to which is the vehicle of belong to and their spiritual for their effect while most Fire the light and life




W.S. Burroughs


A Letter From The Late William Burroughs To The Living Jake Berry

jack foley