Night Thrill

A short, random poem. It's my amateur tribute to Allen Ginsberg.

Feel the thrill of clean caught night
Dancing with the toes of devils
And the eyes of blue-souled maidens
The never-ending summer holds up our pale stone limbs
We walk; the dance is on our lips
A quick jump-ship swagger.
Laughter echoes on bitter steel bridges
From the mouths of demons to our angel ears.
We are curly-haired punks,
Angry at our happy-safe life
We scream down the street, clockwork-oranged out of our minds,
Believing we are fearsome.
The urge to scream is so deep
We forget it’s still gnawing at our brain stem.