A BEAT MOMENT

No muted adolescent
but with connections
at my first urban read
when Allen Ginsberg
embraced me on my neck
from over libertine shoulders
carrying a pirated green guitar
with his sitar of passion
in a refuge vice and voice
of evolving sound
shaping my adolescence
near the tall microphone
as an underground of hip
sets me up
for a night of riffs
this poet reads in French
from Lamartine's anthology
with innocence at the Big Apple
bench wondrously filled
with opus ventures
cherishing our back bench need
to speak out against war
and indifference from crucibles
of tough love's viscera
from a soap opera world
that was insanely bleached
from a winter pea jacket
dyed again by many colors
and sold out at Coney Island's
pawn shop of obscure loves
among sea exiled voices
of Whitman and Hart Crane
without the blueprint
of mystical sin
or contradicting myself
when my courage consoles
the stubborn twice born
smooth jazz brother of angels
of heavy metal souls
besieged at a revolutionary hour
when all Manhattan
and San Frisco Beats
welcomed me
into their third eye sockets
with love letters of welcome
from Dylan, Joplin and Baez
arising out dry bones
as St. Simian says
that our bold soul winners
(once sinners or Cinnas'
from Caesar's household)
in a threshold of our homes
will arise as poets deposit
the truth as stars of the ages
from the beards of all tomes
and the gall of our languages.