H e a r t S o n s & H e a r t D a u g h t e r s of A l l e n G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m H e a l t h S p a : R e p o r t 2 0 1 4 : A r c h i v e s E d i t i o n

THOMAS R. PETERS, Jr.

XXXIII

My love is voluminous & as big as this house

yours is amazing & complex as an escalator –

the legions ante up & are as simple as

staircases in the dormitory

I’m confused like a pie in the face of self doubt

The new day hits me like errant bugs

I’m cold & deserted like an armenian at Ellis Island

I long for the obscure eroticism of Ceylon

In the fifties – or the clarity of Lao Tze

in the cold antiquity & clarity of

caves of yesterday

Oh I abhor the idea of getting up tomorrow

& creep to bed like a volvo with 900,000 miles on it

& drip like pasta primavera off the dishwasher’s heart

My love is insular & confused as sin

and death follows me past the Our Fathers & Hail Mary’s

past the international boundaries at sea.