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

BOB RIXON

A Picture Of Hell-In-Progress

In the lst circle the Mayor was eating hot dogs.

Grinning, he said, "I'm still the Mayor. They give me

all the hot dogs I can eat. I like it here."

In the 2nd circle I saw a former girlfriend

being blown about in the arms of her lover

by a dark wind. "I'm glad you got yours,"

I shouted. She stopped & replied,

"The sex is great here. My genital herpes

have been cured. We’re thinking of getting married

after we win the lottery next week."

In the 3rd circle I heard Allan Freed

on Hell’s radio station. "I never play a song

I don’t like," the great DJ announced.

Then he played "Little Darling" by the Gladiolas.

In the 4th circle I met some familiar poets.

"We all have new books out," they said,

beautifully printed hundred pagers with

choice of original artwork by DaVinci,

Monet, Kurt Schwitters or Mapplethorpe."

In the 5th circle I found the old piano

I abandoned in an apartment 20 years ago.

"Don't touch me!" said the piano. "You had your chance."

Art Tatum is due here any minute for his practice.

In a dark hallway next to the elevator,

a door marked Janitor led me to this

small car parked near Sandy Hook Bay

on a rainy Sunday afternoon.