Keep me in your endless reserves of Dusty dreams. Gullet filled to the Palate with an old friend Wild Orangina. Straight out of Canada. A perversion of Second Grade Friday Afternoons. Poems in progress Shrouded in tattered vinyl Occupy my back pocket.
Phrases wait To procreate And produce poetry.
Then relocate to my Verbal museum Bound, leafed in gold. Immortality is yours, my Children. All seconds meet within. I can not escape the masters. Ginsberg's war cry against the conformity of his generation has shaped the next ones.