Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen - Страница 81

      voice singing to

            my beloved self—

Because I do love thee

      my darling, my

      other, my living

            bride

my friend, my old lord

      of soft tender eyes—

Because I am in the

      Power of life & can

      do no more than

      submit to the feeling

      that I am the One

            Lost

Seeking still seeking the

      thrill—delicious

      bliss in the

         heart abdomen loins

            & thighs

Not refusing this

      38 yr. 145 lb. head

      arms & feet of meat

Nor one single Whitmanic

      toenail contemn

nor hair prophetic banish

      to remorseless Hell,

Because wrapped with machinery

I confess my ashamed desire.

New York, 1963

Morning

Ugh! the planet screams

Doves in rusty cornice-castles peer

down on auto crossroads,

      a junkey in white jacket

wavers in yellow light on

      way to a negro in bed

Black smoke flowing on roofs, terrific

         city coughing—

garbage can lids music over

      truck whine on E. 5th St.

Ugh! I’m awake again—

      dreary day ahead

what to do?—Dull letters

      to be answered

an epistle to M. Duchamp

more me all day the same

clearly

      Q. “Do you want to live or die?”

      A. “I don’t know”

   said Julius after 12 years

               State Hospital

Ugh! cry negroes in Harlem

Ugh! cry License Inspectors, Building

            Inspectors, Police Congressmen

            Undersecretaries of Defense.

Ugh! Cries Texas Mississippi!

Ugh! Cries India

Ugh! Cries US

                  Well, who knows?

O flowing copious!

   total Freedom! To

Do what? to blap! to

   embarrass! to conjoin

Locomotive blossoms to Leafy

   purple vaginas.

To be dull! ashamed! shot!

   Finished! Flopped!

To say Ugh absolutely meaningless here

To be a big bore! even to

   myself! Fulla shit!

Paper words! Fblup! Fizzle! Droop!

Shut your big fat mouth!

Go take a flying crap in the

            rain!

Wipe your own ass! Bullshit!

You big creep! Fairy! Dopy

   Daffodil! Stinky Jew!

Mr. Professor! Dirty Rat! Fart!

Honey! Darling! Sweetie pie!

Baby! Lovey! Dovey! Dearest!

My own! Buttercup! O Beautiful!

Doll! Snookums! Go fuck

            yourself,

         everybody Ginsberg!

And when you’ve exhausted

         that, go forward?

Where? kiss my ass!

O Love, my mouth against

   a black policeman’s breast.

New York, 1963

Waking in New York

I

I place my hand before my beard with awe

and stare thru open-uncurtain window

               rooftop rose-blue sky thru

               which small dawn clouds ride

                    rattle against the pane,

          lying on a thick carpet matted floor

               at last in repose on pillows my knees

               bent beneath brown himalayan blanket, soft—

          fingers atremble to pen, cramp

               pressure diddling the page white

                    San Francisco notebook—

And here am on the sixth floor cold

               March 5th Street old building plaster

               apartments in ruin, super he drunk

                    with baritone radio AM nose-sex

Oh New York, oh Now our bird

               flying past glass window Chirp

               —our life together here

          smoke of tenement chimney pots dawn haze

               passing thru wind soar Sirs—

How shall we greet Thee this Springtime oh Lords—?

What gifts give ourselves, what police fear

               stop searched in late streets

Rockefeller Frisk No-Knock break down

               my iron white-painted door?