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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 9, Number 2, June 2015

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Matthew Caretti
Mercersburg, Pennsylvania, USA


Howl, October 2012

I still lived out on the mountain then. Like Kerouac on Desolation, after Snyder’s lead, happy in my little cottage. The storm, an unfamiliar breed, had been in the news for days. Predicted to be worse than Katrina, a new standard of power and destruction for the Atlantic hurricane season.

Soon rains lashed the road and winds threatened to shove my aging SUV into a flooded ditch. The click of the front door opening then a relief, though temporary. It was night, the power gone hours ago. Candles were lit, the gas heater ignited. I sat listening to the wind in the trees. Listening to the voice in my head.

We had been reading Ginsberg’s Howl in my senior seminar. But never aloud. And so I began.

. . . the best minds
sheltered in the thunder
of a lone voice

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