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Gregory Corso (26 March 1930 – 17 January 2001 / New York City, New York)
Destiny
They deliver the edicts of God
without delay
And are exempt from apprehension
from detention
And with their God-given
Petasus, Caduceus, and Talaria
ferry like bolts of lightning
unhindered between the tribunals
of Space & Time
The Messenger-Spirit
in human flesh
is assigned a dependable,
self-reliant, versatile,
thoroughly poet existence
upon its sojourn in life
It does not knock
or ring the bell
or telephone
When the Messenger-Spirit
comes to your door
though locked
It'll enter like an electric midwife
and deliver the message
There is no tell
throughout the ages
that a Messenger-Spirit
ever stumbled into darkness
Read poems about / on: god, destiny, time, life
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i almost cannot believe he got himself buried next to Keats, what a joke he makes of the effort next to him, corso is the fist of Ali swinging away, while keats, well, you have just got to relax and prepare for perfection, but hey, another rich american making a joke of the rest of the world......... which one of us gets burired next to rimbaud, perhaps who gets internationally buried next to whitman, might as well just let the gods of american money dispose of as they wish, might as well inpsire violence in sacred accomplishment, i just wish god was shaken from the place it plants its feet, maybe the greatest punch on the nose of the sun setting, , , , , sighsa