A Thanksgiving poem (from 1957)
SONG OF THE FEAST (for David Amram)
What feast of thee, blue wild body!
My relatives from the mire
wait outside thy plumage gate!
The raging cock, release!
Here the fox-spoon, ye ol’ fudder bucket!
An here the geese-bowl, ol’ gowdy!
Yez, dare the shaker-pep an the shaker blee-ack, too!
C’mon, bring o’er the radiator-soup!
Now we is a eatin, now we is a eatin—
Play the radio flea, ol’ fane
Yez,now we is a eatin an a listening, eatin an a listening —
Hey, blink, pass down the bread sink —
Ah, … Read More
AG: Edmund Spenser is a colossus, and he’s so big that I think we’ll go around him Except, maybe, one or two, one or two little short things – the Epithalamion – a big Leviathan poem here, marriage poem. What I would suggest is that you go home and read it. It’s got a great stanza form, it’s got a great rhythmic form. So what we might do (here) is read just the first and last stanzas, just to get the stanzaic form get a taste.. Page 162 – I’m sorry..
Peter Orlovsky: The Howard Johnson’s..when we were going along the highway, we stopped at the Howard Johnson’s. And they had (have) these little cards, you know – What’s your waitresses number? Did you like the way she served you? What did she serve you? Was it enough? Was it too small? Was it too large? Do you have any comments about Howard Johnson’s? (the inside … Read More
Gregory Corso: Well, you know, like, it’s almost a mental dictatorship, you know, because you can’t get off the highway. To go to another restaurant or something, you have to keep on the turnpike. And so they’re all similar. And it looks like a big bathroom as soon as you go in. And nothing is moving but the Coca-Cola machines and the cocoa machines, just turning, great symbols turning, great undersea silence.