Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 106
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commentator says himself.
Use the language today
“… a great blunder”
in Vietnam, heavy voices,
“A great blunder … once you’re in, uh,
one of these things, uh …”
“Stay in.” Withdraw,
Language, language, uh, uh
from the mouths of Senators, uh
trying to think of Senators, uh
trying to think on their feet
Saying uhh, politely
Shift linguals, said Burroughs, Cut the Word Lines!
He was right all along.
“… a procurer of these dogs
… take them from the United States … Major Caty … as long as it’s not a white dog … Sentry Dog Procurement Center, Texas … No dogs, once trained, are ever returned to the owner …”
French Truth,
Dutch Civility
Black asphalt, blue stars,
tail light procession speeding East,
The hero surviving his own murder,
his own suicide, his own
addiction, surviving his own
poetry, surviving his own
disappearance from the scene—
returned in new faces, shining
through the tears of new eyes.
New small adolescent hands
on tiny breasts,
pale silken skin at the thighs,
and the cherry-prick raises hard
innocent heat pointed up
from the muscular belly
of basketball highschool English class spiritual Victory,
made clean at midnight in the bathtub of old City
hair combed for love—
millionaire body from Clayton or spade queen from E St Louis
laughing together in the TWA lounge
Blue-lit airfields into St Louis,
past billboards ruddy neon,
looking for old hero renewed,
a new decade—
Hill-wink of houses,
Monotone road gray bridging the streets
thin bones of aluminum sentineled dark
on the suburban hump bearing high wires
for thought to traverse
river & wood, from hero to hero—
Crane all’s well, the wanderer returns
from the west with his Powers,
the Shaman with his beard
in full strength,
the longhaired Crank with subtle humorous voice
enters city after city
to kiss the eyes of your high school sailors
and make laughing Blessing
for a new Age in America
spaced with concrete but Souled by yourself
with Desire,
or like yourself of perfect Heart, adorable
and adoring its own millioned population
one by one self-wakened
under the radiant signs
of Power stations stacked above the river
highway spanning highway,
bridged from suburb to suburb.
March 1966
Bayonne Entering NYC
Smog trucks mile after mile high wire
Pylons trestled toward New York
black multilane highway showered w/blue arc-lamps,
city glare horizoning
Megalopolis with burning factories—
Bayonne refineries behind Newark Hell-light
truck trains passing trans-continental gas-lines,
blinking safety signs KEEP AWAKE
Giant giant giant transformers,
electricity Stacks’ glowing smoke—
More Chimney fires than all Kansas in a mile,
Sulphur chemical Humble gigantic viaducts
networked by road side
What smell burning rubber, oil
“freshens your mouth”
Railroad rust, deep marsh garbage-fume
Nostril horns—
city Announcer jabbering at City Motel,
flat winking space ships descending overhead
GORNEY GORNEY MORTUARY
Brilliant signs the
10 P.M. clock churchspire lit in Suburb City,
New Jersey’s colored streets asleep—
High derrick spotlites lamped an inch above
roofcombs
Shoprite lit for Nite people before the vast
Hohokus marshes and Passaic’s flat gluey
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