If there does exist the Big Jakarta Poem, it would contain all the following things:

Bratwursts und Beers
München within

the span of a four-leaf
clover:

The Filter Moment Has
Come.

And people going out at 9.47
pm for donuts sprayed

with cheese in machines
copied illegally somewhere

in Sacramento, Calif., USA
and assembled in a ware-

house in the outskirts
of this city—Town Squares'

din beating the noise the
welders make with the

candy flame of their blow-
torches. Why

is everything so loud here
what happens when you com-

bine THX with Dolby? Maybe
the gallon-drum mestizo will

go off the scales and the
pretty redhead fly on the strangeness

of her hair—you top beet!—
and all that's just about

the noise. Govinda govinda go-
vinda Jaya jaya—We've still

got David Hassellhoff on prime
time. This city is a pan of

boiling water, forget realism
and moving Amygisms

for a while now and let's
build a future harmonium

while the jury's out: Every-
thing threatens to boil off

into steam. Things disappear
the way the world's omphalos

turn from an outie into
something non-descript just

to make things easy let's call
it an outie. Let's

do the long week-end at the
volcano: the merino death

cloud will make easy target
for your Canon Digital Rebel

SLR set to [symbol of thunder] or
for the optimists [symbol of cloud] & enjoy

a culinary feast with views
of terraced rice fields on green

slopes angled at the exact
degree to make the water

run down without ever appear-
ing to move. I think they

call it moving «vertically down-
stream». On boulders like houses

that pimple those green kids
sunbathe penises still recover-

ing from recent circumcisions, bar-
baric, when they happen at 10,

11, you try to get it over &
done with before the fine fur

on the base of your cock
graduate into a full bush.

A dilemma you keep to your-
self since there's only one way

out. Forget Su Tung-p'o &
his walking stick, stop strik-

ing jagged stones with it &
start at somewhere close

to a constant height
above sea-level.