[culcha] "in the machinery of night"

angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night, who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz, who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war -- Ginsberg, Howl (1955)

Parts of it feel 50 years old... parts of it feel timeless. Thanks for the reminder, billmon (among others).