Howl: the “Neighborhood Clean-up Day” edition

for Allen Ginsberg

Part II.

What beast of remote control fingers and plastic destruction toppled the recycling bin and dumped its contents onto the street?

Moloch! Desperation! Litter! Monstrousness! Recycling bins and windy spring days! Cups flattened by cars! T-shirts soaking up gutter water! Old boxes marked by tire tracks!

Moloch! Moloch! Daymare of Moloch! Moloch the homeless! Hungry Moloch! Moloch the hangover of Saturday morning!

Moloch the discarded wrappers! Moloch the burned-out nooks in alleyways and Congress of hunger!

Moloch whose buildings are empty! Moloch the trash ending up in empty lots! Moloch the garbage truck and overflowing dumpsters!

Moloch the neighborhood association! Moloch whose business is everyone else’s! Moloch whose fingers are wrapped around the handle of a thirty-two inch trash picker! Moloch whose nodding heads are staring at fenced yards! Moloch whose yards are unkempt! Moloch whose ear is a street racing car!

Moloch whose eyes are boarded-up buildings! Moloch whose breast is an abandoned church! Moloch whose historic houses stand on the tree lined street like registered monuments! Moloch whose drive-through windows belch car exhaust and over full grease bins!

Moloch whose love is cracked asphalt and uprooted concrete! Moloch whose soul is pitch covered telephone poles! Moloch whose poverty is…