12 Months on 7th - 1

1

walking in from Commerce, after riding the train in from Fontana. Cold
June early morning. Kerouac is dead, Ginsburg, Neal/Dean, oh fuck even
Burroughs... but not Ashbery, Ferlinghetti, Strand – forgot Bowles dead –
the map of the unloving/unborn unfolds. a critic asks, "do you care
about the time line?" well (long drawl) does it all happen in sequence?
Or in parallel sequential waves?