Litkicks Message Board Archive

Last of My Fathers (to Gregory Corso)

Posted to Action Poetry

for all I knew you were my father, my brother.
For all I knew you were my lover the one I never hadÂ…born too late for you to notice meÂ….
I sing this song reminiscent of the Bronx. red brick death alcohol stink
I find myself in your verse from love of Shelley to penguin dust and apple deaf.
The writings spiral and intensify in the year of my birth, the year of my death.

Gregory, sing to me - take me in a gondola - take me in Danemora
Take me to the world on Bleecker that influenced minds and rocked worlds
created a culture not built on store bought goods. Created by minds searching for truth reality.
You wrote to thwart the bomb, make love to the bomb and sing over the corpse of iambic pentameter,
Gregory donÂ’t die, donÂ’t leave, your voice ever mad rings true and speaks fact of the matter

donÂ’t leave your daughter