I'm thinking about the poem called Howl
How Ginsberg yelled into the world
a shout out to everyone
he was not pleased he said
the time had come for change he said
How shocking it was they said
how utterly the wrong way to do it they
said
and yet it came to be
I am wondering where the howls are
today
Is my cat the only one howling
looking out the window seeing sheets of
grey everywhere
on the land
on the trees
on the buildings
which truthfully are beige and gray
monstrosities gobbling up the land
covering every blade of grass with
cheap siding,
faux 17th century ornament
Grecian columns to pin it all down
Does it make any difference
the one lone howl I make
sitting by my window
seeing only winter and grey things
while others hours away
are frolicking in sun and sand
under perpetual blooms
who cares to hear me howl anyway
poem#4 of 30
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