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Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 103


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103

               where Florence is

                         set on a hill,

               stop for tea & gas

      Cars passing their messages along country crossroads

      to populaces cement-networked on flatness,

                    giant white mist on earth

      and a Wichita Eagle-Beacon headlines

      “Kennedy Urges Cong Get Chair in Negotiations”

The War is gone,

      Language emerging on the motel news stand,

                    the right magic

      Formula, the language known

      in the back of the mind before, now in black print

                    daily consciousness

Eagle News Services Saigon—

      Headline Surrounded Vietcong Charge Into Fire Fight

          the suffering not yet ended

                         for others

          The last spasms of the dragon of pain

                    shoot thru the muscles

               a crackling around the eyeballs

               of a sensitive yellow boy by a muddy wall

Continued from page one area

      after the Marines killed 256 Vietcong captured 31

      ten day operation Harvest Moon last December

                         Language language

      U.S. Military Spokesmen

                    Language language

                         Cong death toll

               has soared to 100 in First Air Cavalry

               Division’s Sector of

                         Language language

                    Operation White Wing near Bong Son

Some of the

      Language language

               Communist

                    Language language soldiers

charged so desperately

      they were struck with six or seven bullets before they fell

      Language Language M 60 Machine Guns

               Language language in La Drang Valley

      the terrain is rougher infested with leeches and scorpions

               The war was over several hours ago!

Oh at last again the radio opens

      blue Invitations!

          Angelic Dylan singing across the nation

                    “When all your children start to resent you

                    Won’t you come see me, Queen Jane?”

      His youthful voice making glad

                    the brown endless meadows

      His tenderness penetrating aether,

          soft prayer on the airwaves,

               Language language, and sweet music too

               even unto thee,

                    hairy flatness!

               even unto thee

                         despairing Burns!

Future speeding on swift wheels

          straight to the heart of Wichita!

Now radio voices cry population hunger world

                    of unhappy people

          waiting for Man to be born

                    O man in America!

      you certainly smell good

                    the radio says

      passing mysterious families of winking towers

      grouped round a quonset-hut on a hillock—

          feed storage or military fear factory here?

Sensitive City, Ooh! Hamburger & Skelley’s Gas

                    lights feed man and machine,

      Kansas Electric Substation aluminum robot

          signals thru thin antennae towers

          above the empty football field

                                   at Sunday dusk

to a solitary derrick that pumps oil from the unconscious

                         working night & day

      & factory gas-flares edge a huge golf course

          where tired businessmen can come and play—

Cloverleaf, Merging Traffic East Wichita turnoff

                    McConnell Airforce Base

                              nourishing the city—

      Lights rising in the suburbs

      Supermarket Texaco brilliance starred

                    over streetlamp vertebrae on Kellogg,

          green jeweled traffic lights

                    confronting the windshield,

Centertown ganglion entered!

          Crowds of autos moving with their lightshine,

          signbulbs winking in the driver’s eyeball—

      The human nest collected, neon lit,

                    and sunburst signed

          for business as usual, except on the Lord’s Day—

      Redeemer Lutheran’s three crosses lit on the lawn

                    reminder of our sins

      and Titsworth offers insurance on Hydraulic

      by De Voors Guard’s Mortuary for outmoded bodies

103

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Ginsberg Allen - Collected Poems 1947-1997 Collected Poems 1947-1997
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