Charles Plymell, from The Last of the Moccasins
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Description: On the Wichita Vortex, from outlaw poet and early beat generation author Plymell, friend of Allen Ginsberg and Neal Cassady.
Charles Plymell | The Last of the Moccasins, Vortex excerpt, 1971 |Charley Plymell | Beats In Kansas We were coming back into the Vortex, and I started getting a hollow feeling in the pit of my stomach. We hit that cyclone energy belt where the vibes were strong and always twisting. When the Indians lived here, the sun was God. Now there is an unseen God. This God is everyone’s extreme image of himself as righteousness personified. And it is O.K. to do wrong if you are convinced you’re right. Great Evangelical Giant took the sun for his own. Right. Righteousness. Right Wing. What did all this mean? Why were there rightists and leftists? Right and left. I learned about this in school. Before that it was just like the sun. Now right and left like a mysterious kaleidoscope gradually pulling apart and going back into another form... always operative eternal rhythm and pitiful man crudely trying to duplicate the process with his mechanical-swastika gears. And that vestigial pineal gland shaped like a tornado right at the ass of the brain. Worse than that, the time warp in the Sargasso Sea! Like curtains closing together and ruffling back. It was like that time I took those pills J. had. J. went to the doctor, the shrink, because he thought he was becoming too homosexual. The shrink gave him some right-handed pills which stimulate the right side of the brain. J. laid ‘em onto me, old me, I’d have snake dreams. They were kind of like psychic energizers but just energize the right side. I went around cussing and gritting my teeth, ready to fight anyone or kick anyone’s ass who got in my way. the whole side of my head felt lopsided, like the right side was swollen. I had all kinds of snake dreams. Ah fuck this town and I took off for San Francisco. As always the end pad of eternity going on out there in that condemned mess. As always going farther west and at the end of west where you can’t go any farther, I felt again the feminine suck
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| Page title: | Charles Plymell | The Last of the Moccasins, Vortex excerpt, 1971 |Charley Plymell | Beats In Kansas |
| Keywords: | charles,plymell,charley,last,moccassins,wichita,ks,kansas,beat,poet,writer,author,biography |
| Description: | Charles Plymell, from The Last of the Moccasins; biographical writing from Plymell, early beat generation poet, author. Used with permission. All rights reserved by Charley Plymell. |
| IP-address: | 69.49.96.16 |
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