lumps of alcoholic psychosis,
ghosts of dead friends,
diseases of queens that I'm
honored to have as one of the last
fallen princes of the sexual revolution,
thank you ladies, spirit's
growing finally to tow
this physical fragment along...
I used to think of Allen Ginsberg,
now I think of Gary Snyder,
maybe I should study those
notebooks on nature.
But the two in one
could be this creature.
It needn't be either/or,
and Ginsberg assents.
We're all getting fucked
in our tents.
