Originally Posted by
tri-mind
New York 1960.
Colossus rise above me cutting out the light,
I wrap my jacket around keeping out the cold,
Staring at the lifeless plastic in macys window,
Trying to sell me things i can't afford not on my grant,
Lighting up my smoke keeps me warm from the wind,
I think i'll head down the bowery to take in some rhyme,
At last i get out of the cold and in through the door,
Man there's so many more people than back when it started,
You grab a seat and get your poetry out to the cats in the crowd,
Now the immediate vibe is gone it takes an hour before you get on,
I'm jawing with Ginsberg and his friends then i'm called up,
"New York 1960 the village is the home of the written word.."
By Matt Harmston.