between bites of flesh

Jack said there was a dog in the tree,

howling to the moon;

but when i looked it wasn't there,

although i saw a haiku

hanging from a hanging branch:

if it fades away,

how will i know what it meant?

i can't see the dark.

but Allen said he saw the dog,

who was acting like a hipster;

he said it was wearing a French-style beret,

reading a poem called Howl,

barking like a mad man:

what was it about?

there was a lot of applause.

i had much to learn.

and Burroughs said there should be

intoxicating drugs floating in the air,

so he traveled to Tangiers

with his net and a tourist guide book,

looking for an African ass to drive home his point:

he had sex at night,

and in the morning felt fine.

his breakfast was fish.

he tried to eat like a native, he said,

between bites of flesh.