Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 134

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In Pentagon giant machines humm and

               bleep in neon arcades,

Buttons click in sockets & robots

               pencil prescriptions for acid gas

               sunsets—

New York on the stairway, the dumbed

               whitefaced Junkie pulls a knife

               and stares immobile—the victim

               gasps, “oh come off it” & a sixpack

               of cokebottles

bounces down worn black steps, in

               Vietnam plastic fire

Streams down myriad phantom cheeks

               rayed over planet television—

Adrenalin runs in armpits from Los Angeles

               to Paris, Harlem & Cannes

explode thru plateglass, Sunset Strip & Sorbonne

               are crowded with Longhaired angels

               armed with gasmasks & Acid,

& Angry Democrats gather in Chicago

               fantasizing armies running

               thru Sewers sprayed with Mace.

I walk up Avenida Juarez, over

               cobbled shadows, blue-tiled streetlamps

lighting Sanborns’ arcades, behind me violent

               chic fairy gangsters with bloody hands

hustle after midnight to cut my throat from

               its beard.

July 22, 1968, 4:30 A.M.

Past Silver Durango Over Mexic Sierra-Wrinkles

Westward Mother-mountains drift Pacific, green-sloped canyons vaster than Mexico City

without roads under cloud-flowers bearing tiny shadow-blossoms on vegetable peaks—

red riverbeds snake thru paradises without electricity

—Huichol or Tarahumara solitudes hectare’d irregular, antpaths to rocky plateaux,

hollows for lone indian humility, hand-ploughed mountainside patches—

naked white cloud-fronds floating silent over silent green earth-crags.

O vast meccas of manlessness, Bright cloud-brains tower’d in blue space up to the Sun

with rainbow garlands over white water-gas, O tree-furred body defenseless thru clear air, visible green breast of America!

vaster than man the Mother Mountains manifest nakedness greater than all the bombs Bacteria ever invented

Impregnable cloud-cities adrift & dissolving no History,

white rain-ships alighted in Zenith Blue Ocean—

No ports or capitals to the horizon, emerald mesas ridged infinite-budded where rivers and ants gather garbage man left behind in the Valley of Mexico—

Iron’ll rust under living tree roots & soak back underground

to feed the sensitive tendrils of Ego covering mountains of granite green mossed unconscious.

Heaven & ocean mirror their azure, horizon lost in yellowed spectrum-mist—

Baja California Blue water lies flat to the brown armpit of United States,

River’s course muddies the delta with teardrops washed dusty from Utah— Green irrigated farm squares in desert—

& the dung colored gas, brown haze of labor near Los Angeles risen the height of Sierras—

gray smog drifts thru low mountain passes, city invisible.

                                             Floating armchairs descend

from sky in sunlight, rocking back & forth in polluted fields of air.

                                             July 22, 1968, 11 A.M.

On Neal’s Ashes

Delicate eyes that blinked blue Rockies all ash

nipples, Ribs I touched w/ my thumb are ash

mouth my tongue touched once or twice all ash

bony cheeks soft on my belly are cinder, ash

earlobes & eyelids, youthful cock tip, curly pubis

breast warmth, man palm, high school thigh,

baseball bicept arm, asshole anneal’d to silken skin

                                        all ashes, all ashes again.

August 1968

Going to Chicago

22,000 feet over Hazed square Vegetable planet Floor

Approaching Chicago to Die or flying over Earth another 40 years

to die—Indifferent, and Afraid, that the bone-shattering bullet

be the same as the vast evaporation-of-phenomena Cancer

Come true in an old man’s bed. Or Historic

Fire-Heaven Descending 22,000 years End th’ Atomic Aeon

The Lake’s blue again, Sky’s the same baby, tho papers & Noses

rumor tar spread through the Natural Universe’ll make Angel’s feet sticky.

I heard the Angel King’s voice, a bodiless tuneful teenager

Eternal in my own heart saying “Trust the Purest Joy—

Democratic Anger is an Illusion, Democratic Joy is God

Our Father is baby blue, the original face you see Sees You—”

How, thru Conventional Police & Revolutionary Fury

Remember the Helpless order the Police Armed to protect,

The Helpless Freedom the Revolutionary Conspired to honor—?

I am the Angel King sang the Angel King

as mobs in Amphitheaters, Streets, Colosseums Parks and offices

Scream in despair over Meat and Metal Microphone

August 24, 1968

Grant Park: August 28, 1968

Green air, children sat under trees with the old,

bodies bare, eyes open to eyes under the hotel wall,

the ring of Brown-clothed bodies armed

               but silent at ease leaned on their rifles—

Harsh sound of mikrophones, helicopter roar—

A current in the belly, future marches

               and detectives naked in bed—

where? on the planet, not Chicago,

               in late sunlight—

Miserable picnic, Police State or Garden of Eden?

in the building walled against the sky

magicians exchange images, Money vote

               and handshakes—

The teargas drifted up to the Vice

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