You may know already that the title of this blog is named after a line in Allen Ginsberg's poem Howl.
I read it yesterday after many years. It made me happy for a while: the sense of rhythm, the richness of the images, the heads crowned with laurel in oblivion.
I remembered memorising a part of the poem back in college, when I was still a young man, and reciting them when drunk. I used to love how "angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night" rolled off my lips. I'd say it again and again, like it was the Diamond sutra.
It made me feel so alive.
I read it yesterday after many years. It made me happy for a while: the sense of rhythm, the richness of the images, the heads crowned with laurel in oblivion.
I remembered memorising a part of the poem back in college, when I was still a young man, and reciting them when drunk. I used to love how "angel headed hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night" rolled off my lips. I'd say it again and again, like it was the Diamond sutra.
It made me feel so alive.
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