Forty feet long sixty feet high hotel. Covered with old gray for buzzing flies. Eye like mango flowing orange pus. Ears Durga people vomiting in their sleep. Got huge legs a dozen buses move inside Calcutta. Swallowing mouthfuls of dead rats. Mangy dogs bark out of a thousand breasts. Garbage pouring from its ass behind alleys. Always pissing yellow Hooghly water. Bellybutton melted Chinatown brown puddles. Coughing lungs Sound going down the sewer. Nose smell a big gray Bidi. Heart bumping and crashing over tramcar tracks. Covered with a hat of cloudy iron. Suffering water buffalo head lowered. To pull the huge cart of year uphill
Allen GinsbergAbout author
- Author's profession: Poet
- Nationality: american
- Born: June 3, 1926
- Died: April 5, 1997
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If it really was Queen Elizabeth who demanded to see Falstaff in a comedy, then she showed herself a very perceptive critic. But even in The Merry Wives of Windsor, Falstaff has not and could not have found his true home because Shakespeare was only a poet. For that he was to wait nearly two hundred years till Verdi wrote his last opera. Falstaff is not the only case of a character whose true home is the world of music; others are Tristan, Isolde and Don Giovanni.
W. H. Auden