IMPROVISATION #205
SLIPPING INTO A VOICE

Slipping into a voice
   by defenseless eye
 shades binding  us
    in a contagion
   of speculation
   here in a high attic loft
in the Sixties
  hearing Ginsberg read "Howl"
in the gnawing snow
outside enduring all night
 at  the windowpane
  taking leave in flakes
from a light hue shadow
  of a friendly choice
on Manhattan's shadows
 by a microphone reacting
  and reciting
from a whirlwind memory
 with his sitar
    shivering in an unguent
time of liquid quiet
in an unfamiliar pattern.