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Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 123


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and many another toy volume of orient lore, poetry crap;

Poe sober knew his white skull, tranquil Stein

repeated one simple idea Making Americans on Space Age’s

edge whiten thought to transparent Place. Peace!

Done, finished with body cock desire, anger

shouting at bus drivers, Presidents & Police.

Gone to other shore, empty house, no lovers

suffering under bedsheets, inconceived babies calm.

Surge, a little abdomen warmth, the bus grinds

cobbles past red light, garbage trucks uplift iron

buttocks, old meat gravy & tin cans sink to bottom

in the Airfield. City edge woods wave branches

in chill breeze darkness under Christmas moon.

December 14, 1966

Holy Ghost on the Nod over the Body of Bliss

Is this the God of Gods, the one I heard about

in memorized language Universities murmur?

Dollar bills can buy it! the great substance

exchanges itself freely through all the world’s

poetry money, past and future currencies

issued & redeemed by the identical bank,

electric monopoly after monopoly owl-eyed

on every one of 90 billion dollarbills vibrating

to the pyramid-top in the United States of Heaven—

Aye aye Sir Owl Oh say can you see in the dark you

observe Minerva nerveless in Nirvana because

Zeus rides reindeer thru Bethlehem’s blue sky.

It’s Buddha sits in Mary’s belly waving Kuan

Yin’s white hand at the Yang-tze that Mao sees,

tongue of Kali licking Krishna’s soft blue lips.

Chango holds Shiva’s prick, Ouroboros eats th’cobalt bomb,

Parvati on YOD’s perfumed knee cries Aum

& Santa Barbara rejoices in the alleyways of Brindaban

La illaha el (lill) Allah hu—Allah Akbar!

Goliath struck down by kidneystone, Golgothas grow old,

All these wonders are crowded in the Mind’s Eye

Superman & Batman race forward, Zarathustra on Coyote’s ass,

Lao-tze disappearing at the gate, God mocks God,

Job sits bewildered that Ramakrishna is Satan

and Bodhidharma forgot to bring Nothing.

December 1966

Bayonne Turnpike to Tuscarora

Gray water tanks in gray mist,

                    gray robot

      towers carrying wires thru Bayonne’s

                    smog, silver

          domes, green chinaworks steaming,

          Christmas’s leftover lights hanging

                         from a smokestack—

      Monotone gray highway into the gray West—

Noon hour, the planet smoke-covered

      Truck wheels roar forward

          spinning past the garbagedump

      Gas smell wafting thru Rahway overpass

      oiltanks in frozen ponds, cranes’ feederladders &

          Electric generator trestles, Batteries open under heaven

Anger in the heart—

          hallucinations in the car cabin, rattling

          bone ghosts left and right

      by the car door—the broken camper icebox—

On to Pennsylvania turnpike

                                   Evergreens in Snow

          Laundry hanging from the blue bungalow

Mansfield and U Thant ask halt Bombing North Vietnam

          State Department says “Tit For Tat.”

                    Frank Sinatra with negro voice

                              enters a new phase—

          Flat on his face 50 years “I’ve been a beggar & a clown

                    a poet & a star, roll myself in July

                              up into a ball and die.”

                                        Radio pumping

          artificial rock & roll, Beach Boys

& Sinatra’s daughter overdubbed microphone

          antennae’d car dashboard vibrating

      False emotions broadcast thru the Land

      Natural voices made synthetic,

               phlegm obliterated

      Smart ones work with electronics—

               What are the popular songs on the Hiway?

Home I’m Comin Home I am a Soldier—”

               “The girl I left behind…

I did the best job I could

                    Helping to keep our land free

I am a soldier”

                    Lulled into War

               thus commercial jabber Rock & Roll Announcers

False False False

               “Enjoy this meat—”

               Weak A&P SuperRight ground round

          Factories building, airwaves pushing …

Trees stretch up parallel into gray sky

Yellow trucks roll down lane—

          Hypnosis of airwaves

      In the house you can’t break it

          unless you turn off yr set

123
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