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A minor


Monday, July 9, 2007

"Prowl" by James B. Ginsberg
I've been encouraged to blog the first few lines of this poem I found by James B. Ginsberg. The whole thing is called "Prowl" and is remarkably similar to Allen Ginsberg's "Howl," almost to a fault - it's as though Jim just took "Howl" and switched out some words. At any rate, here are the opening lines:

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by
       madness, satisfied hysterical collarless,
dragging themselves through the Memphis streets at dawn
       looking for an angry fix,
angelheaded preachers burning for the ancient heavenly
       connection to the starry Wesminster in the blindness
       of night,
who decreetally justified and adopted and being sanctified sat
       up blogging in the supernatural darkness of
       cold-water hotel rooms floating across the tops of
       cities contemplating Blue Like Jazz,
who bared their brains to Hell under the El and
       saw Federal Vision angels staggering on
       church roofs illuminated,
who passed through seminaries with radiant cool eyes
       hallucinating St Louis-iana and North-light tragedy
       among the scholars of war,
who were hired by the academies for crazy &
       publishing god-awful theology on the windows of the
who cowered in clean-shaven rooms in tighty-whities, burn-
       ing their Bibles in wastebaskets and cheering
       for Sproul on the big screen,...
Maybe I'll post more later.

jon :: link :: comment ::

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