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April 26, 2007



A helluva poem! Another title option: "The Love Song of D. Moriarty?" It does quite feel like re:Eliot if J. Alfred had nerve and forgot, for two minutes, about his hairline. Same anxiety, just more self-confidence. ("not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!/ Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone/and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky--"). I'd never read this poem before, but Corso's (as with all of the Beats, for that matter) manic, fervent, almost rabid mode of living is displayed. I'm really enjoying the month of April, for airing out these great poems.

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