(Untitled)

[silencedsparrow]

two stories above the rain-drenched streets where children sell papers and handjobs for sixpence each where the quiet monks pour lighter fluid on their arms and legs but leave their faces dry where watermellon rinds and pineapple cores crawl on the backs of devoted wall street ants where storm drain lids shake from the breath of twelve thousand

Comments

[growntallernow]

well fuck.

[silencedsparrow]

I read Howl today.

[growntallernow]

read it again after learning more about ginsberg and you'll be blown away

[silencedsparrow]

I don't doubt it. On the first read, I could only appreciate the incredible collision of prose (and this is... actually not like that, not like he does it at all, but there's probably a connection with the where where where / who who who)

[growntallernow]

go check the printer

[silvercherries]

jesus, guys.