Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 137
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gas stations, smokestacks flaring poison mist,
Superhighways razored thru hairy woods,
Down to Earth Man City where Poe
Died kidnapped by phantoms
conspiring to win elections
in the Deathly Gutter of 19th Century.
March 1969
Easter Sunday
Slope woods’ snows melt
Streams gush, ducks stand one foot
beak eye buried in backfeathers,
Jerusalem pillars’ gold sunlight
yellow in window-shine, bright
rays spikey-white flashed in mud,
coo coo ripples thru maple branch,
horse limps head down, pale grass shoots
green winter’s brown vegetable
hair—washed by transparent trickling
ice water freshets
earth’s rusty slough bathed clean,
streams ripple leaf-bottomed
channels sounded vocal, white light
afternoon sky end—
Goat bells move, black kids bounce,
butting mother’s hairy side & tender tit
one maa’ing child hangs under Bessie’s udder
ducks waggle yellow beaks, new grass flooded,
tiger cat maeows on barn straw,
herb patch by stone wall’s a shiny marsh,
dimpling snow water glimmers, birds whistle
from icecrystal beds under bare bushes,
breeze blows rooster crow thru chill light
extended from the piney horizon.
1969
Falling Asleep in America
We’re in the Great Place, Fable Place, Beulah, Man wedded to Earth, Planet of green Grass
Tiny atomic wheels spin shining, worlds change Heavens inside out, the planet’s reborn in ashes,
Sun lights sparkle on atomic cinder, plants levitate, green moss precedes trees trembling sentient,
Stone eats blue skies solar dazzle with invisible mouths & flowers are the rocks’ excrement—
Each million years atoms spin myriad reversals, worlds in worlds interchange populations—
from worm to man’s a tiny jump from earth to earth souls are borne ever forgetful—
populations eat their own meat, roses smell sweet in the faeces of horses risen red-fac’d.
Consciousness changes nightly, dreams flower new universes in brainy skulls.
Lying in bed body darkened ear of the bus roar running, only the eye flickering grass green returns me to Nashville.
April 1969
Northwest Passage
Incense under Horse Heaven Hills
Empty logger trucks speed
Lake Wallula’s flatness shimmering
Under Hat Rock painted w/
white highschool signs.
Chemical smoke boils up
under aluminum-bright cloud-roof—
Smog assembling over railroad
cars parked rusting on thin rails—
Factory looming vaster than Johnson
Butte—Look at that Shit!
Smell it! Got about 30 smokestacks going!
Polluting Wallula! Boise Cascade
Container Corp!
The Package is the Product, onomatopoeticized
McLuhan in ’67—
Wall Street Journal Apr. 22 full
page ad Proclaimed:
We got the trees! We got
the land beneath!
We Gotta invent More Forms
for Cardboard Country!
We’ll dig forests for Genius
Spirit God Stuff Gold-root
for Sale on Wall Street. Give
us your money! order
our cardboard Wastebaskets!
We just invented throwaway Planets!
Trees crash in Heaven! Sulphurous Urine
pours thru Boise, Chevron & Brea
Wastepipes where Snake & Wallula
ripple shining
Where Sakajawea led White Men thru blue sky
fresh sweet water roads
Towards mountains of juicy
telepathic pine & open Thalassa
Thalassa! Green salt waves
washing rock mountains, Pacific Sirhan lives!
to hear his jury say
“We now fix the penalty at Death.”
Green salt waves washing Wall Street.
Rain on gray sage near Standard
Oil junction Eltopia,
Static at Mesa! Yodeling ancient
Prajnaparamita
Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate
Bodhi Svaha!
Way Down Yonder in the Bayoux
Country in Dear old Louisian,
Hank Williams chanting to country
Nature, electric
wires run up rolling brownplowed wheatfields—
Wallula polluted! Wallula polluted! Wallula polluted!
“For most large scale gambling enterprises to continue over any extended period of time, the cooperation of corrupt Police or local officials is necessary.” P. 1 Oregonian, “Mapping a $61 million war against organized crime, President Nixon suggested …”
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