Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 160

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I breathed further, past the sake cup half emptied by the breathing guru

Breathed upon the green sprigged thick-leaved plant in a flowerpot

Breathed upon the vast plateglass shining back th’ assembled sitting Sangha in the meditation cafeteria

my breath thru nostril floated out to the moth of evening beating into window’d illumination

breathed outward over aspen twigs trembling September’s top yellow leaves twilit at mountain foot

breathed over the mountain, over snowpowdered crags ringed under slow-breathed cloud-mass white spumes

windy across Tetons to Idaho, gray ranges under blue space swept

with delicate snow flurries, breaths Westward

mountain grass trembling in tiny winds toward Wasatch

Breezes south late autumn in Salt Lake’s wooden temple streets,

white salt dust lifted swirling by the thick leaden lake, dust carried up over Kennecott’s pit onto the massive Unit Rig,

out towards Reno’s neon, dollar bills skittering downstreet along the curb,

up into Sierras oak leaves blown down by fall cold chills

over peaktops snowy gales beginning,

a breath of prayer down on Kitkitdizze’s horngreen leaves close to ground,

over Gary’s tile roof, over temple pillar, tents and manzanita arbors in Sierra pine foothills—

a breath falls over Sacramento Valley, roar of wind down the sixlane freeway across Bay Bridge

uproar of papers floating over Montgomery Street, pigeons flutter down before sunset from Washington Park’s white churchsteeple—

Golden Gate waters whitecapped scudding out to Pacific spreads

over Hawaii a balmy wind thru Hotel palmtrees, a moist warmth swept over the airbase, a dank breeze in Guam’s rotten Customs shed,

clear winds breathe on Fiji’s palm & coral shores, by wooden hotels in Suva town flags flutter, taxis whoosh by Friday night’s black promenaders under the rock & roll discotheque window upstairs beating with English neon—

on a breeze into Sydney, and across hillside grass where mushrooms lie low on Cow-Flops in Queensland, down Adelaide’s alleys a flutter of music from Brian Moore’s Dobro carried in the wind—

up thru Darwin Land, out Gove Peninsula green ocean breeze, clack of Yerkalla village song sticks by the trembling wave

Yea and a wind over mercurial waters of Japan North East, a hollow wooden gong echoes in Kyoto’s temple hall below the graveyard’s wavy grass

A foghorn blowing in the China Sea, torrential rains over Saigon, bombers float over Cambodia, visioned tiny from stone Avelokitesvera’s many-faced towers Angkor Wat in windy night,

a puff of opium out of a mouth yellowed in Bangkok, a puff of hashish flowing thick out of a bearded saddhu’s nostrils & eyes in Nimtallah Burning Ghat,

wood smoke flowing in wind across Hooghly Bridge, incense wafted under the Bo Tree in Bodh Gaya, in Benares woodpiles burn at Manikarnika returning incensed souls to Shiva,

wind dallies in the amorous leaves of Brindaban, still air on the vast mosque floor above Old Delhi’s alleyways,

wind blowing over Kausani town’s stone wall, Himalayan peaktops ranged hundreds of miles along snowy horizon, prayer flags flutter over Almora’s wood brown housetops,

trade winds carry dhows thru Indian Ocean to Mombasa or down to Dar ’Salaam’s riverside sail port, palms sway & sailors wrapped in cotton sleep on log decks—

Soft breezes up thru Red Sea to Eliat’s dry hotels, paper leaflets scatter by the Wailing Wall, drifting into the Sepulchre

Mediterranean zephyrs leaving Tel Aviv, over Crete, Lassithi Plains’ windmills still turn the centuries near Zeus’ birth cave

Piraeus wave-lashed, Venice lagoon’s waters blown up over the floor of San Marco, Piazza flooded and mud on the marble porch, gondolas bobbing up & down choppy waters at the Zattere,

chill September fluttering thru Milan’s Arcade, cold bones & overcoats flapping in St. Peter’s Square,

down Appian Way silence by gravesites, stelae stolid on a lonely grass path, the breath of an old man laboring up road—

Across Scylla & Charybdis, Sicilian tobacco smoke wafted across the boat deck,

into Marseilles coalstacks black fumes float into clouds, steamer’s white driftspume down wind all the way to Tangier,

a breath of red-tinged Autumn in Provence, boats slow on the Seine, the lady wraps her cloak tight round her bodice on toppa Eiffel Tower’s iron head—

across the Channel rough black-green waves, in London’s Piccadilly beercans roll on concrete neath Eros’ silver breast, the Sunday Times lifts and settles on wet fountain steps—

over Iona Isle blue day and balmy Inner Hebrides breeze, fog drifts across Atlantic,

Labrador white frozen blowing cold, down New York’s canyons manila paper bags scurry toward Wall from Lower East side—

a breath over my Father’s head in his apartment on Park Avenue Paterson,

a cold September breeze down from East Hill, Cherry Valley’s maples tremble red,

out thru Chicago Windy City the vast breath of Consciousness dissolves, smokestacks and autos drift expensive fumes ribboned across railroad tracks,

Westward, a single breath blows across the plains, Nebraska’s fields harvested & stubble bending delicate in evening airs

up Rockies, from Denver’s Cherry Creekbed another zephyr risen,

across Pike’s Peak an icy blast at sunset, Wind River peaktops flowing toward the Tetons,

a breath returns vast gliding grass flats cow-dotted into Jackson Hole, into a corner of the plains,

up the asphalt road and mud parking lot, a breeze of restless September, up wood stairways in the wind

into the cafeteria at Teton Village under the red tram lift

a calm breath, a silent breath, a slow breath breathes outward from the nostrils.

September 28, 1973

Flying Elegy

Denver tower blocks group’d under gray haze

on tracted plains gassed to azure horizon—“no place to take revenge.”

Alan Watts epicure drank much

sang bass Christo voice a long long long breathed Aum passed on

in sleep exhausted heart philosopher

wandering age 58 in Chinese dressing gown to seek love, or enter Buddha blind

like this blue sky wing plunged thru rainbow halo in clouds’ drifty whiteness

The skandas are a veil suchlike, no place to take revenge

Blessed the dead who can’t fight back resent a poem knife thought

Blessed the dead in ignorance, dead with no sores or cigarette yen

Blessed the dead that don’t get laid, don’t eat fine casseroles herb-spiced with crusty cheese

don’t drink slow tea

don’t waste petrol surveying clouds in Heaven

don’t waste words at their condition, no one to talk to

Bless the free dead lecturing in the deep with moveless tongue

perfect meditators without thought, accomplished in Sunyata

Bless the dead last Philosophers, thought of the thought of Philosophers

Perfected Wisdom’s teachers escaped from Blessing and the Bliss of grasping prayer

’scaped from the curse of meditation on a cushion on yr ass

Dead that’ve left breath, renounced sex body, suffered stroke & begone

alone, the drinker, thinker, divorce, grandfather weary wise

dying in bed night’s stillness silent and wake.

November 17, 1973

Teton Village

Snow mountain fields

seen thru transparent wings

of a fly on the windowpane

November 29, 1973

Sweet Boy, Gimme Yr Ass

lemme kiss your face, lick your neck

touch your lips, tongue tickle tongue end

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