Against the eagled Hemisphere I lean my eager Editorial ear And what the devil You think I hear? I hear the Beat No not of the heart But the dull palpitation Of the New Art As, on the dead tread, Mill of no mind, It follows its leaders Unbeaten behind. O Kerouac Kerouac What on earth shall we do If a single Idea Ever gets through? . . . 1/2 an idea To a hundred pages Now Jack, dear Jack, That ain't fair wages For labouring through Prose that takes ages Just to announce That Gods and Men Ought all to study The Book of Zen. If you really think So low of the soul Why don't you write On a toilet roll?
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3/18/2010 7:33:55 AM. #.34# You Are Here:
Circular from America by George Barker