Night by Elie Wiesel

But the third rope was still moving: the child, too light, was still breathing...
And so he remained for more than half an hour, lingering between life and death, writhing before our eyes. And we were forced to look at him at close range, He was still alive when I passed him. His tongue was still red, his eyes not yet extinguished.
Behind me, I heard the same man asking:
"For God's sake, where is God?"
And from within me, I heard a voice answer:
"Where He is? This is where- hanging here from this gallows..."
That night, the soup tasted of corpses.

-Elie Wiesel, Night (a new translation by Marion Wiesel)
winner of the Nobel Peace Prize

i Before e...

i before e...
except after c...
weird...

On Burroughs' Work

The method must be purest meat
and not symbolic dressing,
actual visions & actual prisons
as seen then and now.

Prisons and visions presented
with rare descriptions
corresponding exactly to those
of Alcatraz and Rose.

A naked lunch is natural to us,
we eat reality sandwiches.
But allegories are so much lettuce.
Don't hide the madness.

-San Jose, 1954


Reality Sandwiches
by Allen Ginsberg

The Pocket Poet Series
#18