Little Travelogue Poem by Ted Berrigan

When see(k)ing sky you're left with sky, then
'we kill ourselves to propagate our kinde'-We sleep
and these guys come in with hypodermics & spray us
with ice water-

Monkeys press switches and little babies freak out & cry,
'pick me!' 'pick me!'-Oh, Daddy, I was a flower, &
When I listened to George Shearing, they told me, I broke

the World's record for rapid eye movement! Then, I don't know
What I did then, but it was green, & then red, & then
blue & yellow!