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 ...
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves ...
Even in driving by feeling the sense of relief Letting them rest the dead buried in the ground covering their ...
The sounds all muffled under our hoods and hats cutting through, the distinctive noise hearing the greasy snow The pavement ...
Our world, covered all encased in white the drifting snow blowing no other sound at all The sound of the ...
Corpses piled up on the curb limbs becoming bare in the winter air, shadows of the needles fallen below on ...
There was a crawlspace under the addition, the master bedroom, a small cut out into the larger basement, maybe three ...
In the dirt in the space under the pines A town planner toils roads and structures stone walls of gravel ...
Like an army general on parade reviewing the troops in the convoy tooling down the highway into battle I drove ...
Children under, say, ten, shouldn't know that the universe is ever-expanding, inexorably pushing into the vacuum, galaxies swallowed by galaxies, ...
In seventeen hundred, a much hated sultan visited us twice, finally dying of headaches in the south harbor. Ever since, ...
New York: You take a train that rips through versts. It feels as if the trains were running over your ...
WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a trout fishing ...
In the naked bed, in Plato's cave, Reflected headlights slowly slid the wall, Carpenters hammered under the shaded window, Wind ...
I Because the night was falling warm and still Upon a golden day at April's end, I thought; I will ...
NEW neighbors came to the corner house at Congress and Green streets. The look of their clean white curtains was ...
The railway rattled and roared and swung With jolting and bumping trucks. The sun, like a billiard red ball, hung ...
By this part of the century few are left who believe in the animals for they are not there in ...
The winter sun, golden and tired, settles on the irregular army of bottles. Outside the trucks jostle toward the open ...
Los Angeles hums a little tune -- trucks down the coast road for Monday Market packed with small faces blinking ...
Los Angeles hums a little tune -- trucks down the coast road for Monday Market packed with small faces blinking ...
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