The Mind is Like a Butterfly


Ginsberg Butterfly, illustration by E.B. Harris

 
 

The mind is like a butterfly
That lights upon a rose
or flutters to a stinky feces pile
swoops into smoky bus exhaust
or rests upon a porch chair , a flower breathing
open and closed balancing a Tennessee breeze —
Flies to Texas for a convention
spring weeds in fields of oil rigs
Some say these rainbow wings have soul
Some say empty brain
tiny automatic large-eyed wings
that settle on the page.

Allen Ginsberg

1997

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2 thoughts on “The Mind is Like a Butterfly

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