Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters Poem by Allen Ginsberg
Fourth Floor, Dawn, Up All Night Writing Letters
Pigeons shake their wings on the copper church roof
out my window across the street, a bird perched on the cross
surveys the city's blue-grey clouds. Larry Rivers
'll come at 10 AM and take my picture. I'm taking
your picture, pigeons. I'm writing you down, Dawn.
I'm immortalizing your exhaust, Avenue A bus.
O Thought, now you'll have to think the same thing forever!
what a master piece greatly ochestrated poem keep up the good work Mr Ginsberg
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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12/18/2024 4:35:32 AM # 1.0.0
Not too long and not long and not too obscure.