All my friends are suddenly way into Beat culture and they walk around writing poems and ranting and quoting Dharma Bums and stuff. They keep telling me to read all these Jack Kerouac books, but I just don't have time to do that until after finals. Can you just give me a crib sheet so I can hang until then? - Neal (Dover, MA)
List Generated:
- ...and Bird Parker, jazz father I never had, on wings made of notes, blowing sweet heaven sounds, dream beings floating, flo-at-ing the system into a new dream all together...
- ...the winds, asking me for samples of my hair and blood type, I sit on my car hood, gazing at the moon man, asking him how it feels to have the American flag stuck in his eye...
- ...meanwhile, Dean sat in the bathtub reading The Condition of the Working Class in England, his fingers tearing out the pages as he exclaimed, "we never saw it coming man" Dean, Dean-o, Dean-o-rama, Deaner, Deanski...
- ...and the road is infinite, like a sideways eight that's never gonna end, dig, I took a bennie and the stars began to cough...
- ...so I Zenned up to her, staring at her cracked lips, she at mine, I made with a ciggy, and jazzed her hair with my fingertip, then whispered in her ear, you dig Bird Parker? and she jazzed...
- ...sweet Frisco, gold in your lungs and your crooked streets like derelict bones, the last chance of a country still in the womb, man I need some heroin, do you know anyone who sells heroin?
-When I first met Ballen Binsberg and Billiam B. Burroughs I knew that those cats were Jazz.
- ...and so I'm blowing smoke into the paper in the typewriter and watching it disperse when the two forces meet, I'm typing words, Beat words, I'm typing Be-at words onto the page in front of me, the typewriter is clacking, clacking and snapping like a radiant moon, jazz, stars, Zen, Beat, bennies...
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment