Written on the day I went to a beat-l party, and found out wm. s. burroughs had died, 1997.
a generation gap
a sparking of times, events, and people
i scarcely recognize
grabbing together all pieces in my memory
of who these people are
and almost succeeding
talking of times, events and memories that
occurred before i was born
of sex, drugs, events, places that no longer exist
a matter of bridging together those who knew
and those who are just beginning to know
of sparking interest in new blood to
rejuvenate the passion and the rawness of the
beat generation
of drinking wine,
of laughing,
of smoking dope
and feeling like a child sitting at the adults party
just listening and absorbing everything in
and learning along the way
