September On Jessore Road (Allen Ginsberg Poem)
Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit ...
Millions of babies watching the skies Bellies swollen, with big round eyes On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts Noplace to shit ...
Over and over, like a Tune -- The Recollection plays -- Drums off the Phantom Battlements Cornets of Paradise -- ...
TO the assembled folk At great St. Kavin's spoke Young Brother Amiel on Christmas Eve; I give you joy, my ...
THE PROLOGUE. THE Cook of London, while the Reeve thus spake, For joy he laugh'd and clapp'd him on the ...
THE PROLOGUE. The Sompnour in his stirrups high he stood, Upon this Friar his hearte was so wood,* *furious That ...
A LEAF for hand in hand! You natural persons old and young! You on the Mississippi, and on all the ...
O MATER! O fils! O brood continental! O flowers of the prairies! O space boundless! O hum of mighty products! ...
1 A SONG of the good green grass! A song no more of the city streets; A song of farms-a ...
Now warm with ministerial ire, Fierce sallied forth our loyal 'Squire, And on his striding steps attends His desperate clan ...
1 WHEN lilacs last in the door-yard bloom'd, And the great star early droop'd in the western sky in the ...
I WAS asking for something specific and perfect for my city, Whereupon, lo! upsprang the aboriginal name! Now I see ...
1 SINGING my days, Singing the great achievements of the present, Singing the strong, light works of engineers, Our modern ...
CITY of orgies, walks and joys! City whom that I have lived and sung in your midst will one day ...
Six bulls I saw as black as jet, With crimsoned horns and amber eyes That chewed their cud without a ...
You ask me what I call Success - It is, I wonder, Happiness? It is not wealth, it is not ...
Close-mouthed you sat five thousand years and never let out a whisper. Processions came by, marchers, asking questions you answered ...
I THE bronze General Grant riding a bronze horse in Lincoln Park Shrivels in the sun by day when the ...
FLAT lands on the end of town where real estate men are crying new subdivisions, The sunsets pour blood and ...
Ghosts of all my lovely sins, Who attend too well my pillow, Gay the wanton rain begins; Hide the limp ...
In a dream I returned to the river of bees Five orange trees by the bridge and Beside two mills ...
(Being a Chant of the American Soap-Box and the Russian Revolution.) O market square, O slattern place, Is glory in ...
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