Freres humains qui apres nous vivez
N'ayez les cuers contre nour endurci

—Francois Villon


            handsome, ruffled
Madougal Street  1958

I'm thirteen
that's  Corso - poete maudit. . .

how many years glow Gregory
in & out of consciousness

"the most natural poet in the world"
one of the Kerouac School's first "hires"

The Percy Bysche Shelley Chair of Discursive
       Elegant Poetics or

The Catullus Chair of Scathing
       Mouthful Lyrics?

How about The Francois Villon Chair of
   Street Wisdom. . .

            Nawww, he said from sickbed
those weeks ago,
       I could never take that
   school shit
seriously - - I'd screw up
       too much. . .

Corso's fast Socratic Rap lit up
            more than a few
   poet brain-stems

you wanna talk you wanna fight?
show me show me! (etonnez-moi)
there's no good women writers since
Jane Austen
       & etc. . .

Crazy Wisdom, the Tibetan Lama nodded,
Gregory's got it