Allen Ginsberg ·
Nothing is. There is no final enough of wisdom, experience -- any fucking thing. No Holy Grail, No Final Satori, no final solution. Just conflict. Only thing can resolve conflict is love, like I felt for Fletch and Ruski, Spooner and Calico. Pure love. What I feel for my cats present and past. Love? What is it? Most natural painkiller what there is. LOVE. The last words of Burroughs' final journal entry, just days before he passed away, 29 years ago, August 2, 1997. Pictured here, Lawrence, Kansas, 1991. "W. S. Burroughs at rest on his own property looking at sky, empty timeless but "the car dates it" he said" more deep digging here: allenginsberg.org/2016/08/remembering-william-burroughs/
