Vol.2 Issue.1

Before I was born, Alan Ginsberg was howling over the best minds of his generation. Decades come and go - changing the flavors, but not the essence. Throughout, howling remains ineffective as a change agent.

My Own Futile Howl

Pamela Hodel

I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by ambition, gluttony calculated clothed,

pushing themselves through the corporate offices at midnight avoiding a

lost dollar,

demonheaded charisma freezing the ancient heavenly connection to

the starry dynamo in the rhetoric of reason,

who riches and suits and clear-minded and lucid exercised in

the natural light of warm-water peaks soaring amidst the

bottoms of clouds ignoring outcome,

who covered their souls from Heaven on the El and ignored Mohammedan

demons marching on church steeples in shadow

who went through Ivy League with bleary tired eyes envisioning

New York and Wall Street success for the self-made,

Who were excelled to academia for clear facts & figures

in prominent journals of noteworthy brainiacs,

Who strutted in top floor penthouses in white fluffy robes, their money gaining

interest in IRA accounts and ignoring the whispering why,

Who covered their adulteries with civilized finery informing

the offspring it wasn’t their fault,

The innocent disbelieving rose reincarnate in the familiar ghostly clothes of

eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani

Tuneless with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own

bodies good to eat a thousand years.

Euphemism Campus Box 5555 Illinois State University Normal, IL 61790