Poetry

Allen Ginsberg was put on this planet to speak eternal truths in a sexy new radiance that linger in these walls and echo to our souls Today is the beginning of our studies Politics are ever more blinding He spoke of the all-seeing eye that dissolves AI He sang the glory of William Blake in…

Allen is asking me about my dream within, again. Why so demanded? “A group called women. A group of women, some saying, walk away.” I hate the impunity of markers. Rust in the line                   frightened and bind hounded and bound this time: taxonomies games of blades thrashing, thrusting invasion, migration the scribe in the…

_______            In the fall of 1957, I began visiting the student bookstore at the University of Missouri where the table with books of the Beat Generation, buoyed by the victory in San Francisco from the Howl trial, changed the course of my life.  I purchased Allen Ginsberg’s Howl and Other Poems, mostly because of…

Allen Ginsberg was here and he asked me if I had ‘Kaddish’ and I said yeah and spent the rest of the dream looking for it. (Poem is reprinted from A Fresh Young Voice from the Plains, power mad press, 1981, republished by Fonograf, 2026.)

Dear Allen, as you foresaw, we are living in a Fallen America. Masked Fed ICE gangs raid blue state cities at will, filming it all: Kustoms enforcers, licensed to kill, rampage thru American streets, Gangland arm of the mammon-obsessed, unitary executioner, Mocking the law, pepper spraying the Constitution in the face. A Squatter King’s words…

Ah Allen, your centennial is coming up and the world keeps moving. Sometimes it moves forward, but it’s often difficult to tell—amid the zigzags and the circling back, bloody oil spills and ICE-y shotgun blasts, robot drones with robot handlers dropping big dumb bombs on countries most Americans couldn’t find on a map. Allen, did…