February 2012
23 posts
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In the kitchen
in the kitchen
with soft steps on light feet
almost formless, small,
a cup of coffee,
decorated in porcelain and blue,
the matching saucer sitting
without a drop spilt,
as always,
everything in order,
everything in its place.
her smile is weak, but,
remains, and sometimes stronger
than it looked the other day,
these phone conversations,
they’ve been misleading, or-
maybe...
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Howl by Allen Ginsberg
I
I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats...
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“And this I know,
His teeth as white as snow.”
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Weird news. N.Y. town suddenly afflicted with... →