Ginsberg, Allen: The Shrouded Stranger

Bare skin is my wrinkled sack

When hot Apollo humps my back

When Jack Frost grabs me in these rags

I wrap my legs with burlap bags

My flesh is cinder my face is snow

I walk the railroad to and fro

When city streets are black and dead

The railroad embankment is my bed

I sup my soup from old tin cans

And take my sweets from little hands

In Tiger Alley near the jail

I steal away from the garbage pail

In darkest night where none can see

Down in the bowels of the factory

I sneak barefoot upon stone

Come and hear the old man groan

I hide and wait like a naked child

Under the bridge my heart goes wild

I scream at a fire on the river bank

I give my body to an old gas tank

I dream that I have burning hair

Boiled arms that claw the air

The torso of an iron king

And on my back a broken wing

Who'll go out whoring into the night

On the eyeless road in the skinny moonlight

Maid or dowd or athlete proud

May wanton with me in the shroud

Who'll come lay down in the dark with me

Belly to belly and knee to knee

Who'll look into my hooded eye

Who'll lay down under my darkened thigh?