Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 120
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flopped over your shoulder in the wind down 5th Ave
under the handsome breasted workmen
on their scaffolds ascending Time
& washing the windows of Life
—off to a date with martinis & a blond
beloved poet far from home
—with thee and Thy sacred Metropolis
in the enormous bliss of a long afternoon
where death is the shadow
cast by Rockefeller Center
over your intimate street.
Who were you, black suited, hurrying to meet,
Unsatisfied one?
Unmistakable,
Darling date
for the charming solitary young poet with a big cock
who could fuck you all night long
till you never came,
trying your torture on his obliging fond body
eager to satisfy god’s whim that made you
Innocent, as you are.
I tried your boys and found them ready
sweet and amiable
collected gentlemen
with large sofa apartments
lonesome to please for pure language;
and you mixed with money
because you knew enough language to be rich
if you wanted your walls to be empty—
Deep philosophical terms dear Edwin Denby serious as Herbert Read
with silvery hair announcing your dead gift
to the grave crowd whose historic op art frisson was
the new sculpture your big blue wounded body made in the Universe
when you went away to Fire Island for the weekend
tipsy with a family of decade-olden friends
Peter stares out the window at robbers
the Lower East Side distracted in Amphetamine
I stare into my head & look for your / broken roman nose
your wet mouth-smell of martinis
& a big artistic tipsy kiss.
40’s only half a life to have filled
with so many fine parties and evenings’
interesting drinks together with one
faded friend or new
understanding social cat…
I want to be there in your garden party in the clouds
all of us naked
strumming our harps and reading each other new poetry
in the boring celestial
Friendship Committee Museum.
You’re in a bad mood?
Take an Aspirin.
In the Dumps?
I’m falling asleep
safe in your thoughtful arms.
Someone uncontrolled by History would have to own Heaven,
on earth as it is.
I hope you satisfied your childhood love
Your puberty fantasy your sailor punishment on your knees
your mouth-suck
Elegant insistency
on the honking self-prophetic Personal
as Curator of funny emotions to the mob,
Trembling One, whenever possible. I see New York thru your eyes
and hear of one funeral a year nowadays—
from Billie Holiday’s time
appreciated more and more
a common ear
for our deep gossip.
July 29, 1966
A Vow
I will haunt these States
with beard bald head
eyes staring out plane window,
hair hanging in Greyhound bus midnight
leaning over taxicab seat to admonish
an angry cursing driver
hand lifted to calm
his outraged vehicle
that I pass with the Green Light of common law.
Common Sense, Common law, common tenderness
& common tranquillity
our means in America to control the money munching
war machine, bright lit industry
everywhere digesting forests & excreting soft pyramids
of newsprint, Redwood and Ponderosa patriarchs
silent in Meditation murdered & regurgitated as smoke,
sawdust, screaming ceilings of Soap Opera,
thick dead Lifes, slick Advertisements
for Gubernatorial big guns
burping Napalm on palm rice tropic greenery.
Dynamite in forests,
boughs fly slow motion
thunder down ravine,
Helicopters roar over National Park, Mekong Swamp,
Dynamite fire blasts thru Model Villages,
Violence screams at Police, Mayors get mad over radio,
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