Herbert Huncke
Where is your soul?
Through the sunny fog
I heard your horn pass
by my cheap hotel window
on a stolen rug guided
by a rudder that I swore
was a shovel.
Just a glimpse reflected
my eyes from the neon sign
that flashed through silver and light.
Dutch Schultz Hotel
And you murmured in
search of your published book
not alone in that
seizure as others
were laughed at in city lights
bookstore.
Herbert Huncke
Where is your soul?
Is it not in that stolen
rug which the cheeks of
your ass so paregorically rested?
Herbert
Your soul lost forever
but Herbert where are you?
Texan Herbert
You know how low the
wind can stream in
the box camera Texas.
The land at your feet
plugged in by your
magic shovel your most
intense connection
with the earth.
Another spike and the
Camusian sun
boiling your face.
Herbert
Never in a bathtub
but on the wall I saw
your picture you on the
land with hungry cells
waiting for “god’s medicine”.
The sun hit you
in the face like
a nuclear neon.
Flash
Filtered by
sweat in
your hollow
eyes
the smile
stayed deep
left with
the soul
a fix to mourn.
Sam White
TS
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