...the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,
dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
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...
Sadie loves this little edition of Howl. Maybe the small size appeals to her? Note the very serious, beat poet expression on her face. Try not to note the pink plaid outfit. If we had staged this photo, we would have dressed her in a black turtleneck, jeans and a beret.
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