Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 112
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“I wanna go with yew,”
and how he drove her to her house
and said “I’m giving you a last chance”
and how she leaned her head on his
shoulder and said
“Anywhere you’re goin take me”
and how he
took off her pants
and she said that he shd take off his pants
and he wouldn’t take off his pants
and how they’d have some
love play like everybody
and then, he’d drive her home,
but when he’s out at a bar
if anybody looks at his girl
he looks ’em in the eye and snaps his finger & says
whatter ya lookin like that fur—
and out in a bar alone,
anybody’s fair game for his love.
So I sat an I listened,
and I brooded in my beard
and saw he was ugly eyed
though his voice beautiful Edward Carpenter.
Now I’m lying here
Cabinette in complete darkness
Airfields passing by,
Stars, a few dim white fixed friendly
in blackness outside
the modern railroad window
doubled to reflect
passing gas—
“Matter-babble behind the ear” six years ago—
Old poetry grows stale,
forlorn, as always forlorn
“Ah love is so sweet in the Springtime,”
Jeanette MacDonald sang
three decades ago—
on marble balustrade in giant darkness
downtown Paterson Fabian Theater balcony
I wept, How soft flesh is—
Watching boyish Ronald Reagan
emote
his shadow
across the Thirties—
Same black vastness
pierced
by emotion,
melancholy toward the stars—
Political planets whirling round the Sun,
consciousness expansion,
earth girdled by telegraph wires, Edward,
they never dreamed of television then.
Railroad chugging thru yr thighs,
clear your throat,
lie there in the dark,
cough with cancer
close your eyes …
I didn’t even dream, passing Tehachapi
and woke, sleepy numb, reluctant
to face my own language.
But came back to it,
tape machine
passing Mojave,
evening ease,
Na-mu sa-man-da mo-to-nan o-ha-ra-chi ko-to-sha so-no-nan to-ji-to en gya-gya gya-ki gya-ki un-nun shi-fu-ra shi-fu-ra ha-ra-shi-fu-ra ha-ra-chi-fu-ra chi-shu-sa chi-chu-sa shu-shi-ri shu-shi-ri so-ha-ja so-ba-ja se-chi-gya shi-ri-ei so-mo-ko
The universe is empty.
Click of train
eyes closed … the long green courthouse building
“Like a monster with many eyes.”
On valley balcony overlooking Bay Bridge,
a horse in leafy corral…
600 Cong Death Toll this week
language language
escalating
“and the honor & the glory will go to him who speaks
with the voice of a man of feeling,” said Walter Lippmann
face creased w/ wrinkles,
Bakersfield Gazette.
Wear beads, live
in small polkadot tent, tasseled rooftop
in Bixby’s Canyon middle
peaceful Ashram
“It’s mine, it’s mine, I don’t want anybody else own
my piece of land private special from Police”
… I must be criminal, mind
wanders
nailing down roof boards—
tell him I stopped at the bar.
No time No time Sam Lewis—
Oh—No time Carolyn,
No time now, Neal.
Do you love me?
No, I’m an awkward jerk that’s been around yr neck for
so long you got used to it & kinda fond.
The salesman’s eyes close,
he stands his jacket off
tie hanging down white shirt
You run ’em a merry chase, Son?
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