Tuesday, November 30, 2010

Ginsberg

now you're really in the total animal soup of time 2581

the neon fruit supermarket 2584

gnarled steel roots of tress of machinery 2585

nothing stainless

the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty / with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotive in its eye

soon-to-be-toothless mouth

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos—all these / entangled in your mummied roots—and you there standing before me in / the sunset, all your glory in your form!

when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old / locomotive  2586

The method must be purest meat / and symbolic dressing...A naked lunch is natural to us / we eat reality sandwiches. / But allegories are so much lettuce. / Don't hid the madness. 2588

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