Ginsberg Is Still Howling

The beatnik civilization died in the early seventies in all but it's secluded down home refuges as the aging angel heads and geriatric hipsters watched their contacts with the starry dynamo fade, replaced, altered and grown anew.

I stepped outside this morning, to see the light of the sun. It was shocking, after days with only sideways glances. Having heard the phrase before and only understood it for brief moments, I say my 'chest was suddenly filled' with bizarre, inexplicable elation. The starry dynamo seemed not so far today.

Gone out into the world, I stepped into my vehicle and turned to a gregorian chant. Te Diem Laudmus. I do not praise the god himself, nor the words, but there is glory in these voices. For once, the news remained silent. I heard no words of fear, of foreign beasts and present, ever close by demons. Mr.Bush missed my ears completely and till tonight I'd heard nothing of the declarations made, of laws and rights. By one second in the glowing face of Heaven itself that should blast away the mortal woman and only warms her with it's eyes all that was swept up and carried off to wherever tired ideas go to die, to sleep, to sleep perchance to dream and wait for the comming of dawn.