Each month, write a new collection.
I have always felt that “Howl” was something I was born into.Not just heard about. Although there’s something about that, too. When the world was finally presented to me it was “Howl,”Alongside Dylan and Kerouac. What I set out to find.I hung on and my toes drifted along barely touching the places of the Sixties. I sat for 28 years at the original Rainbow Foodscheese table. The People’s Food System. The People’s Warehouse.A collectivized network of political food distribution. Every college townhad its health food Co-Op. When I was 18 I bought that food and carriedit to the mountains. For 18 years I sat at that cheese table, disguisedas magical realism. For 10 years it has been a bar.Today is the day I read “Howl” to my daughter.And the bartender makes my sandwich.
After Allen Ginsburg"Howl"CallingWhisper in a chorusThe word "corrupt"in the wars of wealth and abundanceWhisper a page out of Bibles torn beyondthe poles of paradox contradicting the symbolismwe once were disillusioned in beliefForward to empty knowledge among thehallswe taught whispering words of treacherousthought forbidding pleasureamong the Godsonce pondered as ours and now theirsWhispers in the mountains loftReclusive to the vulturessinking into the caves in the nightto pick the portion from our eyelidsspitting the sensibility we were accustomed toBelievefrom our youth to elder sacrifice on the backsin the cities from the blocks to pityWhisper among the parody where madness fails to wonder the sympathy in helplesshungry mongers as money gloatsthe tragedy in the wake of warand the fruitful desire become the pain of manyWhisper the water shed to the brink of bastardswhere whores are no longer wandering the streetsbut sleep in the crevasses of opportunitythe laying downculminating in truthThe disease is in the bleeding a righteousnessAs we all gale with masters of our devicesWe are whispering the pieces of hearts that pay tribute to the hopelessness Whisper sense to creak off the plankAs volunteers blindfold a passive callingAnd the angels welt the backs of sweatand thoughts of swindleWhisper aside the breaking we progress tothe whole without a step into greedor a bow unto the crisesMake the partaking amount to the passions of our mistakes as the bombsare the old and the terror of surprise in noware newWhisper the meaning of the soul not to burdenthe fate of our peoplelet worlds forsake the plentyas we scrape on by