каким-то образом я бы пожила
хоть день в американском Разбитом поколении
это же Молок безответственности
и Бог свободы
день, но не юность



I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness
angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the
starry dynamo in the machinery of night
who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkan-
sas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,
who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes
on the windows of the skull,
who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in
wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,
who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy
Bronx on benzedrine
who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wonder-
ing where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,
who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for
committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and
intoxication,
who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof
waving genitals and manuscripts