Tatyana_v_727:
“Right off at the start, if you have your chair tipped back against the railing of the porch and look in upwelling awe at the night sky you will become a poet for a night at least.” - Jack Kerouac
Tatyana_v_727:
I am not a prophet, I am like Whitman a lover.
Tatyana_v_727:
a love poem
Tatyana_v_727:
Crossing Brooklyn Ferry
Tatyana_v_727:
the stain of love / is upon the world! / Yellow, yellow, yellow / it eats into the leaves, / smears with saffron the horned branches that lean / heavily Love Song, William Carlos Williams
Tatyana_v_727:
Brooklyn, it’s no longer / romantic and smart / spit me out onto cold / sidewalks / darkened by broken lights
Tatyana_v_727:
I Tell You It Is October
Tatyana_v_727:
There was a child . . . (#HappyWorldTeachersDay)
Tatyana_v_727:
My beloved who wills not love me: / My life which cannot love me: / I seduce both. / One knows not - / One desires - / Which is the sum - Jack Kerouac (A translation from the the French by Allen Ginsberg)
Tatyana_v_727:
All is I want / Love when I want it / Rest when I want it / Food when I want it / Drink when I want it / The rest is bullshit - Jack Kerouac
Tatyana_v_727:
People in L I R R Station
Tatyana_v_727:
but my heart believes
Tatyana_v_727:
This is the touch of my lips to yours, this the murmur / of yearning, / This the far-off depth and height reflecting my own face, / This is the thoughtful merge of myself, and the outlet again. Walt Whitman, Song Of Myself (Section 19)
Tatyana_v_727:
It was love of love . . .
Tatyana_v_727:
•••
Tatyana_v_727:
Brooklyn College Brain - Allen Ginsberg (photo 11/20/19)
Tatyana_v_727:
“What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.” Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727:
Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727:
why do we have poetry ? because this world needs another form of healing besides alcohol to exist
Tatyana_v_727:
your chair is empty
Tatyana_v_727:
Give me juicy #autumnalfruit, ripe and red from the orchard."[Give me the splendid #silent #sun]#WaltWhitman
Tatyana_v_727:
Give me juicy autumnal fruit, ripe and red from the orchard." [Give me the splendid silent sun] Walt Whitman
Tatyana_v_727:
While I cannot understand it or argue it out I fully believe in a clue and purpose in Nature, entire and several; and that invisible spiritual results, just as real and definite as the visible, eventuate all concrete life and all materialism through Time
Tatyana_v_727:
postscriptum
Tatyana_v_727:
We wear the mask
Tatyana_v_727:
in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on / the highway across America in tears to the door of my / cottage in the Western night San Francisco, 1955—1956 Howl, Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727:
There’s a little something / everywhere / Tonight it’s here 121221 🎄♥️
Tatyana_v_727:
“Poetry is not an expression of the party line. It's that time of night, lying in bed, thinking what you really think, making the private world public, that's what the poet does.” — Allen Ginsberg
Tatyana_v_727:
we are just contributors to time
Tatyana_v_727:
What are you now? a nothing . . .
