On Reading Ginsburg’s “Howl”

Once, I possessed an open mind,
which I assure you was my own.
I used it to read Ginsberg’s “Howl”.
Well, I don’t wish to be unkind
but those words seemed randomly sown.
my first reaction was a scowl.

So I tried a second reading.
His words looked clipped and pasted;
mashed to the page with cruel force.
Was he desperate?  Was he bleeding?
Or perhaps just strangely wasted
by some bizarre urban remorse?

Was there a narrative to track,
or should I have even bothered to try?
Words like photos pinned up on a board
and in between them all is black.
Could I, from this, some deep meaning pry?
Was there something I ignored?

I thought it some chaotic list,
from a generation, not so great,
of a world’s load of flaws.
His knowledge of words can’t be dismissed
and it’s not a poem I hate
for the picture that it draws.

But frankly, the Howell to be well versed in
Is the rich one they call…Thurston!