Lawrence Hurlinspaghetti Bridges
This second cousin of Lamont was a bartender for most of his life but he always harbored secret dreams of becoming a poet. Below is the only known poem attributed to him.

This Poem Is Beat

Like I just nodded out
	   Back in '58
It's just my luck 
	   Things were going great
We were On The Road
	   Man, we wined and dined
A regular Coney Island 
	   Of the Mind
Yeah, it was back
	   In Kerouac Days
Bird flew by night
	   Every blue note ablaze
Like a babe I was snoozin'
	   So why'd you wake me
Here in nineteen hundred
	   And ninety-three
Now I'm all for travellin
	   France or Frisco, you dig
But I don't have the right luggage
	   For this Van Winkle gig
So the first thing I had to do
	   Was Howl
The best minds of my generation 
	   Throwin' in the towel
They hocked all their bongos
	   They shaved their goatees
They locked all the coffeehouses
	   Threw away all the keys
So now get me some food, man
	   Something to munch
Like a Reality Sandwich
	   Just a nice Naked Lunch
Oh, and don't forget the coffee
	   That's right, make mine espresso
'Cause decaf is jive, man
	   I got to confesso
Now I'm fully awake 
	   So here are the facts
I'm still a bit time-lagged
	   Better call Dr. Sax
'Cause I'm feelin' so, feelin' so, 
	   Feelin' so mean
Skippin' lunch is uncool
	   Skippin' decades, obscene
Once "Bohemian" stood for a "gap"
	   So free 
But here in the '90's, 
	   it's some Queen's rhapsody
Think back to when Angelheaded Hipsters
	   Were champs
Take a look at today
	   You-know-who's on a stamp
Hear that bass now swingin solo
	   Without piano or drums
A surreal little samba
	   Danced by drunken Dharma bums
I feel like that bass string
	   Just a thread of catgut
Just a rope of catgut
	   Pulled taut and plucked
And so, Daddy-O
	   I just got to split
It's been almost ten minutes
	   An overdose - I quit
But I've picked my successor
	   He's from a family you might know
I'm sure that you've heard of them
	   The Dead Sea Scros
So dig it, I'm splitting
	   I'm history, I'm gone
This poem just ended
	   But the band plays on
      - Lawrence Hurlinspaghetti Bridges