Varanasi: Very Nasty

While I lay in my hotel room cramping, my friend Gary writes stream-of-UNconsciousness poetry from Varanasi. Bill Burroughs, eat your heart out.

Joy saw a dog playing with a human skull

roomboys deliver dirty platters sticky with old baked beans

narrow alleys dark after midnight full of cow mountains

drupad festival sublime despite crackly speakers

puppy half eaten by rats reclines in alley

books, darjeeling tea, snake charmer flute, bodhi leaves

still traveling light in dust

memsab memsab not this way

from jail cell student cafeteria at BHU

after the paintings of mystic eurolady

dreadlock white sadhu couples who
argue about 2 paise extra charge on the internet

babababababababababa

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