Scattered Poems (City Lights Pocket Poets Series)
Spontaneous poetry through the writer of at the street, collected from underground and ephemeral courses; together with “San Francisco Blues,” the version texts of “Pull My Daisy,” and American haiku.
HERE DOWN ON darkish EARTH
prior to all of us visit Heaven
VISIONS OF AMERICA
All that hitchhikin
All that railroadin
All that comin back
to the United States —Jack Kerouac
during which they should be written down has appeared equivocal; ambiguities have consistently resulted. via benefiting from the applied sciences to be had in our time, our objective is to carry the main fulfilling studying adventure attainable. A TRANSLATION FROM THE FRENCH OF JEAN-LOUIS INCOGNITEAU* My cherished who wills to not love me: My lifestyles which can't love me: I seduce either. She with my around kisses … (In the smile of my loved the approbation of the cosmos) existence is my artwork … (Shield earlier than death).
Otay tale of magic, a number of insanity, maya otay, magic trees-sitters and little woman bitters, and littlest lil brothers in crib made made up of clay (blue within the moon). For the doves. 1956? 1959 The Buddhist Saints are the incomparable saints Wooing proceed of lovemilk, mewling And purling with stunning voices for romance, For excellent compassionate pity with out making one fake stream of motion, completely accomodating commiserations For all sentient belaboring issues. Passive Sweetsaints.
discovered all issues simply come and move together with any feeling of disappointment: that too will pass: unhappy this day joyful the next day to come: somber at the present time inebriated the following day: why be concerned quite a bit? every body on the planet has flaws similar to me. Why should still I positioned myself down? that is a sense simply coming to move. every thing comes and is going. How stable it really is! Evil wars wont remain without end! friendly kinds additionally pass. considering that every thing simply comes and is going O why be unhappy? or comfortable? ailing at the present time fit the next day. yet O I’m so unhappy simply the.
And your father and mom besmeared at considered you th’unspent begotless crop of worms —You lay there, you queen for a day, wait for the “fen- sucked fogs” to carp at you Your sweety attractiveness chanced on by means of No identify in its hidingplace til burrs half from you from lack of factor, sinew, all the remaining— Gibbering quiver graveyard HOO! The health facility that buries you be Baal, the digger Yorrick & the shoveler groom— My rosy tomatoes pop squirting out of your lousy rotten.
Grave— Your profile, erstwhile Garboesque, mistook by means of earth— eels for a few fjord to Sheol— And your timid voice field strangled by means of lie-hating earth ceaselessly. may well the plighted Noah-clouds dissolve in grief of you— may possibly crimson clay be your middle & woven into necks of hogs, boars, booters & pilferers & burned down with Stalin, Hitler & the remainder— may well you chew your lip that you can't meet with God— or Beat me to a pub —Amen The Almoner, his cup hath no backside, nor I a.