I don’t quite know why except one of my patients last week was wearing a sweater by Bella Freud with Allen Ginsberg scrawled across the front that his poem, Howl, about the devastation of AIDS crawled into my mind. And the world feels like it is howling and we do not hear. And my husband, John’s photograph of Allen reciting Howl in 1967.
who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus
to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,
Copyright 1968 John Haynes