SOUPSONG HAS GONE HARDCOPY!
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From Allen Ginsberg's "Howl" (1956):
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix, angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machiner of night, ...who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa, ...who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borscht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom, ...who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer, ...ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you're really in the total animal soup of time-- ...to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head, the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death, and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America's naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years." |
Jack Kerouac, "182nd Chorus," Mexico City Blues:
is Buddhahood -- As a Buddha you know that all the sounds that wave from a tree and the sights from a sea of fairies in Isles of Blest and all the tastes in Nectar Soup... -- one dinner" |
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