Someone handed me Mexico City Blues in St. Paul [Minnesota] in 1959 and it blew my mind. It was the first poetry that spoke my own language.
Attribution disputed; shown as originally published.
Someone handed me Mexico City Blues in St. Paul [Minnesota] in 1959 and it blew my mind. It was the first poetry that spoke my own language.
Attribution disputed; shown as originally published.
Resonance is subjective and varies wildly between individuals.
I read On the Road in maybe 1959. It changed my life like it changed everyone else's.
Some times feeling like Holden Caulfield, sometimes Jack Kerouac
Caringosity killed the Kerouac cat.
I know Not these my hands And yet I think there was A woman like me once had hands Like these.
The old poets little knew what comfort they could be to a man.
I'm Nobody! Who are you? Are you - Nobody - Too?