Marriage (Gregory Corso Poems)
Should I get married? Should I be Good?Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?Don't take ...
Should I get married? Should I be Good?Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?Don't take ...
What should the wars do with these jigging fools?The man behind the book may not be man,His own man or ...
-for perfidious protectorsI was playing in the streetno one paid attention to meas I made forms out of sandmumbling Rimbaud ...
I am a barbarian, a Khazar, a Saracen.Batterer of Roman walls, dynamite's low rumbleAngrier than Rusudan, bowing, not humbled--The ache ...
Just like Verlaine, Rimbaud or Val(Leonas Letas)
"1.WARMING UP THE BOXdelivered on time to persons with city & state line bearing only the words DEATH CITY - ...
What is sound, as standing for the world and the mind of man at any time, and in ...
I had just won $115 from the headshakers and was naked upon my bed listening to an opera by one ...
And if I love you more than my own soul Then must you die and I shall never die Until ...
Is that the only way we can become like Indians, like Rhinoceri, like Quartz Crystals, like organic farmers, like what ...
(From the French of Rimbaud). When the child's forehead, full of torments red, Cries out for sleep and ...
The wonder of light is your familiar tale,Pert wench, down to the nineteenth century:Mr. Rimbaud the Frenchman's apostasyAsserts the argument ...
'My father still reads the dictionary every day. He says your life depends on your power to master words.' Arthur ...
With a love a madness for Shelley Chatterton Rimbaud and the needy-yap of my youth has gone from ear to ...
To think that Spinoza died polishing eyeglasses. That Blake got tired at a printer's shop waiting for that day's conversation ...
ah, christ, what a CREW: more poetry, always more P O E T R Y . if it doesn't come, ...
O my beloved city, How many times have I deserted you For the sights and sounds of Babylon? How often ...
We're taking Marie Toro to her home in Père-La-Chaise; We're taking Marie Toro to her last resting-place. Behold! her hearse ...
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