I went into the Maverick Bar
In Farmington, New Mexico.
And drank double shots of bourbon
backed with beer.
My long hair was tucked up under a cap
I’d left the earring in the car.
Two cowboys did horseplay
by the pool tables,
A waitress asked us
where are you from?
a country-and-western band began to play
“We don’t smoke Marijuana in Muskokie”
And with the next song,
a couple began to dance.
They held each other like in High School dances
in the fifties;
I recalled when I worked in the woods
and the bars of Madras, Oregon.
That short-haired joy and roughness—
I could almost love you again.
We left—onto the freeway shoulders—
under the tough old stars—
In the shadow of bluffs
I came back to myself,
To the real work, to
“What is to be done.”
The index for the “Interzone” manuscript (click on the image to see details, it’s high-res)
Neal Cassady & I went upstairs to attic at Millbrook estate Castalia Foundation big house where Timothy Leary and friends were then experimenting with DMT, a half hour trip - here Neal resting eyes closed with Millbrook lady friend (Susan Metzner, wife of Dr Ralph Metzner) in charge of holding the vile of liquid psychedelica. I’d driven upstate from New York City with Ken Kesey & Merry Pranksters in their day glo painted bus recently arrived East crosscountry from California, Neal at the wheel, Fall 1964.
c. Allen Ginsberg Estate
"Poet Joanne Kyger in mirror, her husband Gary Snyder with notebook Peter Orlovsky eating sweetcake, we stopped at chai-wallah’s stand in hill countryside, maybe near Almora or Kausani or small railroad stop waiting train on Pilgrimage to ancient Buddhist sites, India February 1962."