Reality Sandwiches, 1953-60City Lights Books, 1963 - 98 Seiten Wake-up nightmares in Lower East Side, musings in public library, across the U.s. in dream auto, drunk in old Havana, brooding in Mayan ruins, sex daydreams on the West Coast, airplane vision of Kansas, lonely in a leafy cottage, lunch hour in Berkeley ... a wind-up book of dream notes, psalms, journal enigmas, & nude minutes from 1953 to 1960 poems scattered in fugitive magazines here collected now book. |
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Häufige Begriffe und Wortgruppen
airplane Allen alley ancient angel beard beautiful blue body Bong Bong bordertown boys broken Buddha Burroughs Chancay cheek Chiapas Chichen Itza cigarette cities rot clock clouds cock consciousness cried Cuba Libre dark death delicatessen Denver dime Dollar downtown dream drunk drunkenness eardrum Eternity ether eyes face faraway flowers fucking gaiety girls gnob gold Green Automobile hammock hand harmonica head Heaven hidden highway hipster Hotel humility is beatness Huncke illumination imagination JALISCO Kerouac kiss light Lima lonely looking magic Manhattan Mariachi Marijuana Mexicali Mexico mind moon mountain mustache naked night nose numbers Palenque Paracas pass pavement Peru pistol shot poem rain ride ringing ruins screaming scribbling shining silence Skid Road skull solitude soul SOUNDY Square stone street streetcorner talking tears thought thru trees universe Uxmal visions voice void waiting walks wall wild Xbalba York
Beliebte Passagen
Seite 41 - I'll go into the bedroom silently and lie down between the bridegroom and the bride, those bodies fallen from heaven stretched out waiting naked and restless, arms resting over their eyes in the darkness, bury my face in their shoulders and breasts, breathing their skin, and stroke and kiss neck and mouth and make back be open and known, legs raised up crook'd to receive, cock in the darkness driven tormented and attacking roused up from hole to itching head, bodies locked shuddering naked, hot lips...
Seite 32 - ... childish geography the rusty ship will harbor in ... What nights might I not see penniless among the Arab mysteries of dirty towns around the casbahs of the docks? Clay paths, mud walls, the smell of green cigarettes, creosote and rank salt water — dark structures overhead, shapes of machinery and facade of hull: and a bar lamp burning in the wooden shack across from the dim mountain of sulphur on the pier. Toward what city will I travel? What wild houses do I go to occupy?
Seite 53 - A STRANGE NEW COTTAGE IN BERKELEY All afternoon cutting bramble blackberries off a tottering brown fence under a low branch with its rotten old apricots miscellaneous under the leaves, fixing the drip in the intricate gut machinery of a new toilet; found a good...
Seite 47 - I'm happy, Kerouac, your madman Allen's finally made it: discovered a new young cat, and my imagination of an eternal boy walks on the streets of San Francisco, handsome, and meets me in cafeterias and loves me.
Seite 24 - ... my own crude night imaginings, my own crude soul notes taken down in moments of isolation, dreams, piercings, sequences of nocturnal thought and primitive illuminations —uncanny feeling the white cat sleeping on the table will open its eyes in a moment and be looking at me — One might sit in this Chiapas recording the apparitions in the field visible from a hammock looking out across the shadow of the pasture in all the semblance of Eternity ... a dwarfed thatch roof down in the grass in...
Seite 28 - Tuluum shimmering on the coast in ruins; Chichen Itza naked constructed on a plain; Palenque, broken chapels in the green basement of a mount; lone Kabah by the highway; Piedras Negras buried again by dark archaeologists; Yaxchilan resurrected in the wild, and all the limbo of Xbalba still unknown — floors under roofcomb of branch, foundation to ornament tumbled to the flowers, pyramids and stairways raced with vine, limestone corbels down in the river of trees, pillars and corridors sunken under...
Seite 30 - ... rumored of the cliffs of Tumbala. I found the face of one of the Nine Guardians of the Night hidden in a mahogany hut in the Area of Lost Souls — first relic of kind for that place. And I found as well a green leaf shaped like a human heart; but to whom shall I send this anachronistic valentine? Yet these ruins so much woke me to nostalgia for the classic stations of the earth...
Seite 26 - ... floor where ant wends its nightly ritual way toward great faces worn down by rain. In front of me a deathshead half a thousand years old — and have seen cocks a thousand old grown over with moss and batshit stuck out of the wall in a dripping vaulted house of rock — but deathshead's here on portal still and thinks its way through centuries the thought of the same night in which I sit in skully meditation — sat in many times before by artisan other than me until his image of ghostly change...