Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Dizzle Duzzle Missing a Lovely night in Frisco.
Lately, I've become accustomed to the way
The ground opens up and envelops me
Each time I go out to walk the dog.
Or the broad-edged silly music the win
Makes when I run for the bus...
Things have come to that.
And now, each night I count the stars,
And each night I get the same number.
And when they will not come to be counted,
I count the holes they leave.
Nobody sings anymore.
Found a book a year ago in City Lights bookstore in Frisco.
I was missing my folks down in L.A, my melted face broke down in pieces and then I saw this poem with Big letters under books about Dylan and Ginsberg.
Ella was wispering my ears and Baraka was Dizzeling my spirit.
good night folks!
The Dizzle Duzzle