Catching Up with William S. Burroughs

Blah, blah, November 2011, etc. I think. I don’t exactly remember the origin of this one, but I vaguely recall sitting on public transit and reading Queer at about that time, so probably this dates to that period? Or maybe summer of 2011? Who can say. I read a lot of Burroughs in 2010 and 2011.

This one is slightly different from the original form. Mostly formatting changes. Despite the… somewhat lurid and bizarre nature of the poem, I think this one says less about my mental state or my thoughts on America at the time, and more just that I was reading a lot of Burroughs and giggling  at the idea of giant mechanized dildos named Steely Dan.

They can’t all have deep back stories, folks. Enjoy!


Bill, last night a girl

Sacrificed herself on

A cock that would have

Put Steely Dan to shame


Her asshole gaped,


Like it had a story to tell


Look at these soft machines,

Victims of a word virus

You never could have imagined


Slack-jawed in their seats,

Electronics running up their legs,

Running through their minds,

Entwined with their genitals,

Massaging and

Stimulating and

Asphyxiating and


The Nova Express

Has already left the station,

All our tickets have been punched,

And the conductor won’t stop

Cracking bad jokes,

Won’t stop grinning


It’s the 21st century, Bill,

And I’ve never felt so cut up


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