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First Party At Ken Keseys With Hells Angels

 Cool black night thru redwoods
cars parked outside in shade
behind the gate, stars dim above
the ravine, a fire burning by the side
porch and a few tired souls hunched over
in black leather jackets.
In the huge wooden house, a yellow chandelier at 3 A.
M.
the blast of loudspeakers hi-fi Rolling Stones Ray Charles Beatles Jumping Joe Jackson and twenty youths dancing to the vibration thru the floor, a little weed in the bathroom, girls in scarlet tights, one muscular smooth skinned man sweating dancing for hours, beer cans bent littering the yard, a hanged man sculpture dangling from a high creek branch, children sleeping softly in their bedroom bunks.
And 4 police cars parked outside the painted gate, red lights revolving in the leaves.
December 1965

Poem by Allen Ginsberg
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