Like a terrifying poem about America,

only you could right, where are you tonight? Sweet

Allen Ginsberg of Patterson

Berkeley & New York City. I

found you leaping frog, from my Tibetan

book of dead, eyes alligned

swatting human flies with wormface and

coils unkempt, I come to know you as Allen

favouring you as bruder Alan, appearing

to ME again chanting Hare Krishna, ringing

bells so melodic, with harmonies to fly a kite in, eclectic

and adventurous, always tuneful, your

joyful clamour of Levantine God, spontaneous prose swinging

your head like a hoodlum, surrounded by

sixteen cats heads accustomed to you, still

the very same blue jays are waiting, in

their tree for you, mad at

me as you're yet to return, I

see you stretching semi-conceptual

melange of fairytale trippiness to

Sunset strips and I think what

thoughts you had at Greenwich Vilage, 1997 April 5th