Drafts Archive

Exercise inspired by Allen Ginsberg's "Howl"

I have seen again and again my sleeping hours stolen by memory, 

  roaming a warm night eagerly and without fear, 

  expecting the next illicit high, seventy-six stories of concrete bliss, 

  conglomerate faded minutes revelling under streetlights, still unknown by the   

a population of moments, green, who longed to be another,

who imagined being spent basking, empty open-window apartment lamp light      

  and full bright high silent balcony moons.

who felt only fragments of ecstatic nighttime jitters compressing into legs   

  walking on air, breeze shivering and mile sore on gum and graffiti 

who caught short glimpses of bright smiles and mischievous eyes glinting in 

  alleys stairwells and back entrances, adrenaline-fuelled escapes and innocent 

who barely grasped the paradise of safe arms in a universe independent from 

  the rest, holding always, through silent ferries empty beaches and holy Sunday 

who, dissatisfied with their own existence, gazed instead upon memories filled 

  once floating radiant, now weighing dully on my pillow,