Allen Ginsberg

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Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997) was one of the founding fathers of the Beat Generation with his revolutionary poem "Howl." Ginsberg was a prolific writer who also championed gay rights and anti-war movements, protesting the Vietnam War and coining the phrase "Flower Power." Even with his countercultural background, he became recognized as one of American's foremost writers and artistic icons. 

Early Life

Irwin Allen Ginsberg was born on June 3, 1926, in Newark, New Jersey, and grew up in the city of Paterson. His mother Naomi had immigrated from Russia to the states while his father Louis was a poet and teacher. The young Ginsberg, who kept a journal from his pre-teen years and took to the poetry of Walt Whitman in high school, went on to attend Columbia University. While there he met former Columbia student Jack Kerouac and William S. Burroughs, who would all become literary icons of a revolutionary cultural movement. Ginsberg started to focus on his writing during the mid-1940s while also exploring his attraction to men.

Writing 'Howl'

Ginsberg graduated from Columbia in 1948, but in the following year was involved as an accomplice in a robbery. To avoid jail time, Ginsberg pleaded insanity, spending time in the university's mental health facilities. Upon his release, he started to study under poet William Carlos Williams and worked for a time at a Manhattan ad agency.

In 1954, Ginsberg moved to San Francisco and became part of the countercultural gathering that would come to be known as the Beat Movement, which used a number of artistic and sensory modes to eschew rigid rules of society. It was also in the Bay Area where Ginsberg met model Peter Orlovsky, who would become his companion.

Then in 1955, Ginsberg read excerpts from his poem "Howl" at a gallery, which became a key manifesto of the Beat Generation and was published the following year by City Lights Bookstore in the form of Howl and Other Poems. "Howl" was an eye-opening work in its explorations of sexuality, anguish and social issues in non-traditional poetic form, relying on a freewheeling mix of influences.

The poem was deemed as being obscene and Ginsberg was tried for its content, though he was vindicated once the presiding judge ruled the work had merit. The resulting publicity placed Ginsberg and his work in the spotlight and as icons of anti-censorship. During this time Ginsberg experienced deep loss as his mother, who had suffered from a history of severe mental health issues, died in 1956, two days after receiving a lobotomy.

Highly Influential Artist

Ginsberg's next published work, Kaddish and Other Poems 1958-1960, featured the poem ''Kaddish for Naomi Ginsberg (1894-1956),'' which explored his mother's past and his feelings about their relationship. It is regarded by many as one of his strongest, most affecting works.

Ginsberg was prolific with his writing during the '60s, with some of his published titles including Reality Sandwiches (1963) and Planet News 1961-1967 (1969), and also worked with musical forms as well. Ginsberg also came up with the phrase "flower power," which he used to describe the peace movements that fueled much of the anti-war demonstrations he took part in, including his protests against the Vietnam War.

Ginsberg was an advocate of drug use, though he would generally walk away from this position after he studied yoga and meditation during a 1962 voyage to India. Ginsberg later converted to Buddhism and founded the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics of the Naropa Institute, which focused on Buddhist teachings. He was also a world traveler, remaining for extended periods of time in Latin America and Europe.

Ginsberg won the 1974 National Book Award for his work The Fall of America: Poems of these States 1965-1971, and over the ensuing years, became increasingly renowned for the importance and influence of his work, receiving accolades like the 1986 Robert Frost Medal. In the 1980s and '90s, he continued to write and worked with musical artists like Philip GlassBono, Sonic Youth and the Clash.

Death

Already ailing from hepatitis and congestive heart failure, among other health issues, Ginsberg was diagnosed with liver cancer in the spring of 1997. He died shortly after on April 5, 1997, in his East Village loft surrounded by friends and old lovers. He was 70 years old. A massive collection of his work can be found in the book Collected Poems 1947-1997.

Selected Poems by ALLEN GINSBERG

  1. A Supermarket In California

    by ALLEN GINSBERG

    What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the
    streets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon.

    In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit
    supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
    What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles
    full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes! --- and you,
    Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons?
    I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the
    meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys.

    I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price
    bananas? Are you my Angel?
    I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and
    followed in my imagination by the store detective.
    We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting
    artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
    Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does
    your beard point tonight?
    (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel
    absurd.)

    Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to
    shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely.
    Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in
    driveways, home to our silent cottage?
    Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you
    have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and
    stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

  2. September On Jessore Road

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Millions of babies watching the skies
    Bellies swollen, with big round eyes
    On Jessore Road--long bamboo huts
    Noplace to shit but sand channel ruts

    Millions of fathers in rain
    Millions of mothers in pain
    Millions of brothers in woe
    Millions of sisters nowhere to go

    One Million aunts are dying for bread
    One Million uncles lamenting the dead
    Grandfather millions homeless and sad
    Grandmother millions silently mad

    Millions of daughters walk in the mud
    Millions of children wash in the flood
    A Million girls vomit & groan
    Millions of families hopeless alone

    Millions of souls nineteenseventyone
    homeless on Jessore road under grey sun
    A million are dead, the million who can
    Walk toward Calcutta from East Pakistan

    Taxi September along Jessore Road
    Oxcart skeletons drag charcoal load
    past watery fields thru rain flood ruts
    Dung cakes on treetrunks, plastic-roof huts

    Wet processions Families walk
    Stunted boys big heads don't talk
    Look bony skulls & silent round eyes
    Starving black angels in human disguise

    Mother squats weeping & points to her sons
    Standing thin legged like elderly nuns
    small bodied hands to their mouths in prayer
    Five months small food since they settled there

    on one floor mat with small empty pot
    Father lifts up his hands at their lot
    Tears come to their mother's eye
    Pain makes mother Maya cry

    Two children together in palmroof shade
    Stare at me no word is said
    Rice ration, lentils one time a week
    Milk powder for warweary infants meek

    No vegetable money or work for the man
    Rice lasts four days eat while they can
    Then children starve three days in a row
    and vomit their next food unless they eat slow.

    On Jessore road Mother wept at my knees
    Bengali tongue cried mister Please
    Identity card torn up on the floor
    Husband still waits at the camp office door

    Baby at play I was washing the flood
    Now they won't give us any more food
    The pieces are here in my celluloid purse
    Innocent baby play our death curse

    Two policemen surrounded by thousands of boys
    Crowded waiting their daily bread joys
    Carry big whistles & long bamboo sticks
    to whack them in line They play hungry tricks

    Breaking the line and jumping in front
    Into the circle sneaks one skinny runt
    Two brothers dance forward on the mud stage
    Teh gaurds blow their whistles & chase them in rage

    Why are these infants massed in this place
    Laughing in play & pushing for space
    Why do they wait here so cheerful & dread
    Why this is the House where they give children bread

    The man in the bread door Cries & comes out
    Thousands of boys and girls Take up his shout
    Is it joy? is it prayer? "No more bread today"
    Thousands of Children at once scream "Hooray!"

    Run home to tents where elders await
    Messenger children with bread from the state
    No bread more today! & and no place to squat
    Painful baby, sick shit he has got.

    Malnutrition skulls thousands for months
    Dysentery drains bowels all at once
    Nurse shows disease card Enterostrep
    Suspension is wanting or else chlorostrep

    Refugee camps in hospital shacks
    Newborn lay naked on mother's thin laps
    Monkeysized week old Rheumatic babe eye
    Gastoenteritis Blood Poison thousands must die

    September Jessore Road rickshaw
    50,000 souls in one camp I saw
    Rows of bamboo huts in the flood
    Open drains, & wet families waiting for food

    Border trucks flooded, food cant get past,
    American Angel machine please come fast!
    Where is Ambassador Bunker today?
    Are his Helios machinegunning children at play?

    Where are the helicopters of U.S. AID?
    Smuggling dope in Bangkok's green shade.
    Where is America's Air Force of Light?
    Bombing North Laos all day and all night?

    Where are the President's Armies of Gold?
    Billionaire Navies merciful Bold?
    Bringing us medicine food and relief?
    Napalming North Viet Nam and causing more grief?

    Where are our tears? Who weeps for the pain?
    Where can these families go in the rain?
    Jessore Road's children close their big eyes
    Where will we sleep when Our Father dies?

    Whom shall we pray to for rice and for care?
    Who can bring bread to this shit flood foul'd lair?
    Millions of children alone in the rain!
    Millions of children weeping in pain!

    Ring O ye tongues of the world for their woe
    Ring out ye voices for Love we don't know
    Ring out ye bells of electrical pain
    Ring in the conscious of America brain

    How many children are we who are lost
    Whose are these daughters we see turn to ghost?
    What are our souls that we have lost care?
    Ring out ye musics and weep if you dare--

    Cries in the mud by the thatch'd house sand drain
    Sleeps in huge pipes in the wet shit-field rain
    waits by the pump well, Woe to the world!
    whose children still starve in their mother's arms curled.

    Is this what I did to myself in the past?
    What shall I do Sunil Poet I asked?
    Move on and leave them without any coins?
    What should I care for the love of my loins?

    What should we care for our cities and cars?
    What shall we buy with our Food Stamps on Mars?
    How many millions sit down in New York
    & sup this night's table on bone & roast pork?

    How many millions of beer cans are tossed
    in Oceans of Mother? How much does She cost?
    Cigar gasolines and asphalt car dreams
    Stinking the world and dimming star beams--

    Finish the war in your breast with a sigh
    Come tast the tears in your own Human eye
    Pity us millions of phantoms you see
    Starved in Samsara on planet TV

    How many millions of children die more
    before our Good Mothers perceive the Great Lord?
    How many good fathers pay tax to rebuild
    Armed forces that boast the children they've killed?

    How many souls walk through Maya in pain
    How many babes in illusory pain?
    How many families hollow eyed lost?
    How many grandmothers turning to ghost?

    How many loves who never get bread?
    How many Aunts with holes in their head?
    How many sisters skulls on the ground?
    How many grandfathers make no more sound?

    How many fathers in woe
    How many sons nowhere to go?
    How many daughters nothing to eat?
    How many uncles with swollen sick feet?

    Millions of babies in pain
    Millions of mothers in rain
    Millions of brothers in woe
    Millions of children nowhere to go

  3. The Blue Angel

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Marlene Dietrich is singing a lament
    for mechanical love.
    She leans against a mortarboard tree
    on a plateau by the seashore.

    She's a life-sized toy,
    the doll of eternity;
    her hair is shaped like an abstract hat
    made out of white steel.

    Her face is powdered, whitewashed and
    immobile like a robot.
    Jutting out of her temple, by an eye,
    is a little white key.

    She gazes through dull blue pupils
    set in the whites of her eyes.
    She closes them, and the key
    turns by itself.

    She opens her eyes, and they're blank
    like a statue's in a museum.
    Her machine begins to move, the key turns
    again, her eyes change, she sings.

    —you'd think I would have thought a plan
    to end the inner grind,
    but not till I have found a man
    to occupy my mind.

  4. Homework

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Homage to Kenneth Koch


    If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran
    I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
    scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
    the jungle,
    I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
    Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
    Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly

    Cesium out of Love Canal
    Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
    out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
    Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
    Clouds so snow return white as snow,
    Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
    Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
    Agent Orange,
    Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
    the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,

    & put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
    Aeon till it came out clean

  5. To Aunt Rose

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Aunt Rose—now—might I see you
    with your thin face and buck tooth smile and pain
    of rheumatism—and a long black heavy shoe
    for your bony left leg
    limping down the long hall in Newark on the running carpet
    past the black grand piano
    in the day room
    where the parties were
    and I sang Spanish loyalist songs
    in a high squeaky voice

    (hysterical) the committee listening
    while you limped around the room
    collected the money—
    Aunt Honey, Uncle Sam, a stranger with a cloth arm
    in his pocket
    and huge young bald head
    of Abraham Lincoln Brigade


    —your long sad face

    your tears of sexual frustration
    (what smothered sobs and bony hips
    under the pillows of Osborne Terrace)
    —the time I stood on the toilet seat naked
    and you powdered my thighs with calamine
    against the poison ivy—my tender
    and shamed first black curled hairs
    what were you thinking in secret heart then
    knowing me a man already—
    and I an ignorant girl of family silence on the thin pedestal
    of my legs in the bathroom—Museum of Newark.


    Aunt Rose
    Hitler is dead, Hitler is in Eternity; Hitler is with
    Tamburlane and Emily Brontë


    Though I see you walking still, a ghost on Osborne Terrace
    down the long dark hall to the front door
    limping a little with a pinched smile
    in what must have been a silken
    flower dress
    welcoming my father, the Poet, on his visit to Newark
    —see you arriving in the living room
    dancing on your crippled leg
    and clapping hands his book
    had been accepted by Liveright


    Hitler is dead and Liveright’s gone out of business
    The Attic of the Past and Everlasting Minute are out of print
    Uncle Harry sold his last silk stocking
    Claire quit interpretive dancing school
    Buba sits a wrinkled monument in Old
    Ladies Home blinking at new babies


    last time I saw you was the hospital
    pale skull protruding under ashen skin
    blue veined unconscious girl
    in an oxygen tent
    the war in Spain has ended long ago
    Aunt Rose

  6. Five A.M.

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Elan that lifts me above the clouds
    into pure space, timeless, yea eternal
    Breath transmuted into words
    Transmuted back to breath
    in one hundred two hundred years
    nearly Immortal, Sappho's 26 centuries
    of cadenced breathing - beyond time, clocks, empires, bodies, cars,
    chariots, rocket ships skyscrapers, Nation empires
    brass walls, polished marble, Inca Artwork
    of the mind - but where's it come from?

    Inspiration? The muses drawing breath for you? God?
    Nah, don't believe it, you'll get entangled in Heaven or Hell -
    Guilt power, that makes the heart beat wake all night
    flooding mind with space, echoing through future cities, Megalopolis or
    Cretan village, Zeus' birth cave Lassithi Plains - Otsego County
    farmhouse, Kansas front porch?
    Buddha's a help, promises ordinary mind no nirvana -
    coffee, alcohol, cocaine, mushrooms, marijuana, laughing gas?
    Nope, too heavy for this lightness lifts the brain into blue sky
    at May dawn when birds start singing on East 12th street -

    Where does it come from, where does it go forever?

  7. An Eastern Ballad

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    I speak of love that comes to mind:
    The moon is faithful, although blind;
    She moves in thought she cannot speak.
    Perfect care has made her bleak.

    I never dreamed the sea so deep,
    The earth so dark; so long my sleep,
    I have become another child.
    I wake to see the world go wild.

  8. Cosmopolitan Greetings

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Stand up against governments, against God.
    Stay irresponsible.
    Say only what we know & imagine.
    Absolutes are Coercion.
    Change is absolute.
    Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions.
    Observe what’s vivid.
    Notice what you notice.
    Catch yourself thinking.
    Vividness is self-selecting.

    If we don’t show anyone, we’re free to write anything.
    Remember the future.
    Freedom costs little in the U.S.
    Asvise only myself.
    Don’t drink yourself to death.
    Two molecules clanking us against each other require an observer to become
    scientific data.
    The measuring instrument determines the appearance of the phenomenal
    world (after Einstein).
    The universe is subjective..

    Walt Whitman celebrated Person.
    We are observer, measuring instrument, eye, subject, Person.
    Universe is Person.
    Inside skull is vast as outside skull.
    What’s in between thoughts?
    Mind is outer space.
    What do we say to ourselves in bed at night, making no sound?
    “First thought, best thought.”
    Mind is shapely, Art is shapely.
    Maximum information, minimum number of syllables.
    Syntax condensed, sound is solid.
    Intense fragments of spoken idiom, best.
    Move with rhythm, roll with vowels.
    Consonants around vowels make sense.
    Savour vowels, appreciate consonants.
    Subject is known by what she sees.
    Others can measure their vision by what we see.
    Candour ends paranoia.

  9. Hospital Window

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    At gauzy dusk, thin haze like cigarette smoke
    ribbons past Chrysler Building's silver fins
    tapering delicately needletopped, Empire State's
    taller antenna filmed milky lit amid blocks
    black and white apartmenting veil'd sky over Manhattan,
    offices new built dark glassed in blueish heaven--The East
    50's & 60's covered with castles & watertowers, seven storied
    tar-topped house-banks over York Avenue, late may-green trees
    surrounding Rockefellers' blue domed medical arbor--
    Geodesic science at the waters edge--Cars running up

    East River Drive, & parked at N.Y. Hospital's oval door
    where perfect tulips flower the health of a thousand sick souls
    trembling inside hospital rooms. Triboro bridge steel-spiked
    penthouse orange roofs, sunset tinges the river and in a few
    Bronx windows, some magnesium vapor brilliances're
    spotted five floors above E 59th St under grey painted bridge
    trestles. Way downstream along the river, as Monet saw Thames
    100 years ago, Con Edison smokestacks 14th street,
    & Brooklyn Bridge's skeined dim in modern mists--
    Pipes sticking up to sky nine smokestacks huge visible--

    U.N. Building hangs under an orange crane, & red lights on
    vertical avenues below the trees turn green at the nod
    of a skull with a mild nerve ache. Dim dharma, I return
    to this spectacle after weeks of poisoned lassitude, my thighs
    belly chest & arms covered with poxied welts,
    head pains fading back of the neck, right eyebrow cheek
    mouth paralyzed--from taking the wrong medicine, sweated
    too much in the forehead helpless, covered my rage from
    gorge to prostate with grinding jaw and tightening anus
    not released the weeping scream of horror at robot Mayaguez
    World self ton billions metal grief unloaded
    Pnom Penh to Nakon Thanom, Santiago & Tehran.
    Fresh warm breeze in the window, day's release
    from pain, cars float downside the bridge trestle
    and uncounted building-wall windows multiplied a mile
    deep into ash-delicate sky beguile
    my empty mind. A seagull passes alone wings
    spread silent over roofs.

  10. Wales Visitation

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    White fog lifting & falling on mountain-brow
    Trees moving in rivers of wind
    The clouds arise
    as on a wave, gigantic eddy lifting mist
    above teeming ferns exquisitely swayed
    along a green crag
    glimpsed thru mullioned glass in valley raine—


    Bardic, O Self, Visitacione, tell naught

    but what seen by one man in a vale in Albion,
    of the folk, whose physical sciences end in Ecology,
    the wisdom of earthly relations,
    of mouths & eyes interknit ten centuries visible
    orchards of mind language manifest human,
    of the satanic thistle that raises its horned symmetry
    flowering above sister grass-daisies’ pink tiny
    bloomlets angelic as lightbulbs—

    Remember 160 miles from London’s symmetrical thorned tower
    & network of TV pictures flashing bearded your Self
    the lambs on the tree-nooked hillside this day bleating
    heard in Blake’s old ear, & the silent thought of Wordsworth in eld Stillness
    clouds passing through skeleton arches of Tintern Abbey—
    Bard Nameless as the Vast, babble to Vastness!


    All the Valley quivered, one extended motion, wind
    undulating on mossy hills
    a giant wash that sank white fog delicately down red runnels
    on the mountainside
    whose leaf-branch tendrils moved asway
    in granitic undertow down—
    and lifted the floating Nebulous upward, and lifted the arms of the trees
    and lifted the grasses an instant in balance
    and lifted the lambs to hold still
    and lifted the green of the hill, in one solemn wave


    A solid mass of Heaven, mist-infused, ebbs thru the vale,
    a wavelet of Immensity, lapping gigantic through Llanthony Valley,
    the length of all England, valley upon valley under Heaven’s ocean
    tonned with cloud-hang,
    —Heaven balanced on a grassblade.
    Roar of the mountain wind slow, sigh of the body,
    One Being on the mountainside stirring gently
    Exquisite scales trembling everywhere in balance,
    one motion thru the cloudy sky-floor shifting on the million feet of daisies,
    one Majesty the motion that stirred wet grass quivering
    to the farthest tendril of white fog poured down
    through shivering flowers on the mountain’s head—


    No imperfection in the budded mountain,
    Valleys breathe, heaven and earth move together,
    daisies push inches of yellow air, vegetables tremble,
    grass shimmers green
    sheep speckle the mountainside, revolving their jaws with empty eyes,
    horses dance in the warm rain,
    tree-lined canals network live farmland,
    blueberries fringe stone walls on hawthorn’d hills,
    pheasants croak on meadows haired with fern—


    Out, out on the hillside, into the ocean sound, into delicate gusts of wet air,
    Fall on the ground, O great Wetness, O Mother, No harm on your body!
    Stare close, no imperfection in the grass,
    each flower Buddha-eye, repeating the story,
    myriad-formed—
    Kneel before the foxglove raising green buds, mauve bells dropped
    doubled down the stem trembling antennae,
    & look in the eyes of the branded lambs that stare
    breathing stockstill under dripping hawthorn—
    I lay down mixing my beard with the wet hair of the mountainside,
    smelling the brown vagina-moist ground, harmless,
    tasting the violet thistle-hair, sweetness—
    One being so balanced, so vast, that its softest breath
    moves every floweret in the stillness on the valley floor,
    trembles lamb-hair hung gossamer rain-beaded in the grass,
    lifts trees on their roots, birds in the great draught
    hiding their strength in the rain, bearing same weight,


    Groan thru breast and neck, a great Oh! to earth heart
    Calling our Presence together
    The great secret is no secret
    Senses fit the winds,
    Visible is visible,
    rain-mist curtains wave through the bearded vale,
    gray atoms wet the wind’s kabbala
    Crosslegged on a rock in dusk rain,
    rubber booted in soft grass, mind moveless,
    breath trembles in white daisies by the roadside,
    Heaven breath and my own symmetric
    Airs wavering thru antlered green fern
    drawn in my navel, same breath as breathes thru Capel-Y-Ffn,
    Sounds of Aleph and Aum
    through forests of gristle,
    my skull and Lord Hereford’s Knob equal,
    All Albion one.


    What did I notice? Particulars! The
    vision of the great One is myriad—
    smoke curls upward from ashtray,
    house fire burned low,
    The night, still wet & moody black heaven
    starless
    upward in motion with wet wind.

  11. My Sad Self

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    To Frank O’Hara

    Sometimes when my eyes are red
    I go up on top of the RCA Building
    and gaze at my world, Manhattan—
    my buildings, streets I’ve done feats in,
    lofts, beds, coldwater flats
    —on Fifth Ave below which I also bear in mind,
    its ant cars, little yellow taxis, men
    walking the size of specks of wool—

    Panorama of the bridges, sunrise over Brooklyn machine,
    sun go down over New Jersey where I was born
    & Paterson where I played with ants—
    my later loves on 15th Street,
    my greater loves of Lower East Side,
    my once fabulous amours in the Bronx
    faraway—
    paths crossing in these hidden streets,
    my history summed up, my absences
    and ecstasies in Harlem—

    —sun shining down on all I own
    in one eyeblink to the horizon
    in my last eternity—
    matter is water.


    Sad,
    I take the elevator and go
    down, pondering,
    and walk on the pavements staring into all man’s
    plateglass, faces,
    questioning after who loves,
    and stop, bemused
    in front of an automobile shopwindow
    standing lost in calm thought,
    traffic moving up & down 5th Avenue blocks behind me
    waiting for a moment when ...


    Time to go home & cook supper & listen to
    the romantic war news on the radio
    ... all movement stops
    & I walk in the timeless sadness of existence,
    tenderness flowing thru the buildings,
    my fingertips touching reality’s face,
    my own face streaked with tears in the mirror
    of some window—at dusk—
    where I have no desire—
    for bonbons—or to own the dresses or Japanese
    lampshades of intellection—


    Confused by the spectacle around me,
    Man struggling up the street
    with packages, newspapers,
    ties, beautiful suits
    toward his desire
    Man, woman, streaming over the pavements
    red lights clocking hurried watches &
    movements at the curb—


    And all these streets leading
    so crosswise, honking, lengthily,
    by avenues
    stalked by high buildings or crusted into slums
    thru such halting traffic
    screaming cars and engines
    so painfully to this
    countryside, this graveyard
    this stillness
    on deathbed or mountain
    once seen
    never regained or desired
    in the mind to come
    where all Manhattan that I’ve seen must disappear.

  12. The Terms In Which I Think Of Reality

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    Reality is a question
    of realizing how real
    the world is already.

    Time is Eternity,
    ultimate and immovable;
    everyone's an angel.

    It's Heaven's mystery
    of changing perfection :

    absolute Eternity

    changes! Cars are always
    going down the street,
    lamps go off and on.

    It's a great flat plain;
    we can see everything
    on top of a table.

    Clams open on the table,
    lambs are eaten by worms
    on the plain. The motion

    of change is beautiful,
    as well as form called
    in and out of being.


    Next : to distinguish process
    in its particularity with
    an eye to the initiation

    of gratifying new changes
    desired in the real world.
    Here we're overwhelmed

    with such unpleasant detail
    we dream again of Heaven.
    For the world is a mountain

    of shit : if it's going to
    be moved at all, it's got
    to be taken by handfuls.


    Man lives like the unhappy
    whore on River Street who
    in her Eternity gets only

    a couple of bucks and a lot
    of snide remarks in return
    for seeking physical love

    the best way she knows how,
    never really heard of a glad
    job or joyous marriage or

    a difference in the heart :
    or thinks it isn't for her,
    which is her worst misery.

  13. Sunflower Sutra

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look for the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

    Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

    The only water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

    Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust--

    --I rushed up enchanted--it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake--my visions--Harlem

    and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past--

    and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye--

    corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

    leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

    Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

    The grime was no man's grime but death and human locomotives,

    all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis'ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt--industrial--modern--all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown--

    and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos--all these

    entangled in your mummied roots--and you standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

    A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

    How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of your railroad and your flower soul?

    Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

    You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!

    And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

    So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

    and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack's soul too, and anyone who'll listen,

    --We're not our skin of grime, we're not our dread bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we're all golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

  14. Howl

    BY ALLEN GINSBERG

    For Carl Solomon

    I

    I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked,

    dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,

    angelheaded hipsters burning for the ancient heavenly connection to the starry dynamo in the machinery of night,

    who poverty and tatters and hollow-eyed and high sat up smoking in the supernatural darkness of cold-water flats floating across the tops of cities contemplating jazz,

    who bared their brains to Heaven under the El and saw Mohammedan angels staggering on tenement roofs illuminated,

    who passed through universities with radiant cool eyes hallucinating Arkansas and Blake-light tragedy among the scholars of war,

    who were expelled from the academies for crazy & publishing obscene odes on the windows of the skull,

    who cowered in unshaven rooms in underwear, burning their money in wastebaskets and listening to the Terror through the wall,

    who got busted in their pubic beards returning through Laredo with a belt of marijuana for New York,

    who ate fire in paint hotels or drank turpentine in Paradise Alley, death, or purgatoried their torsos night after night

    with dreams, with drugs, with waking nightmares, alcohol and cock and endless balls,

    incomparable blind streets of shuddering cloud and lightning in the mind leaping toward poles of Canada & Paterson, illuminating all the motionless world of Time between,

    Peyote solidities of halls, backyard green tree cemetery dawns, wine drunkenness over the rooftops, storefront boroughs of teahead joyride neon blinking traffic light, sun and moon and tree vibrations in the roaring winter dusks of Brooklyn, ashcan rantings and kind king light of mind,

    who chained themselves to subways for the endless ride from Battery to holy Bronx on benzedrine until the noise of wheels and children brought them down shuddering mouth-wracked and battered bleak of brain all drained of brilliance in the drear light of Zoo,

    who sank all night in submarine light of Bickford’s floated out and sat through the stale beer afternoon in desolate Fugazzi’s, listening to the crack of doom on the hydrogen jukebox,

    who talked continuously seventy hours from park to pad to bar to Bellevue to museum to the Brooklyn Bridge,

    a lost battalion of platonic conversationalists jumping down the stoops off fire escapes off windowsills off Empire State out of the moon,

    yacketayakking screaming vomiting whispering facts and memories and anecdotes and eyeball kicks and shocks of hospitals and jails and wars,

    whole intellects disgorged in total recall for seven days and nights with brilliant eyes, meat for the Synagogue cast on the pavement,

    who vanished into nowhere Zen New Jersey leaving a trail of ambiguous picture postcards of Atlantic City Hall,

    suffering Eastern sweats and Tangerian bone-grindings and migraines of China under junk-withdrawal in Newark’s bleak furnished room,

    who wandered around and around at midnight in the railroad yard wondering where to go, and went, leaving no broken hearts,

    who lit cigarettes in boxcars boxcars boxcars racketing through snow toward lonesome farms in grandfather night,

    who studied Plotinus Poe St. John of the Cross telepathy and bop kabbalah because the cosmos instinctively vibrated at their feet in Kansas,

    who loned it through the streets of Idaho seeking visionary indian angels who were visionary indian angels,

    who thought they were only mad when Baltimore gleamed in supernatural ecstasy,

    who jumped in limousines with the Chinaman of Oklahoma on the impulse of winter midnight streetlight smalltown rain,

    who lounged hungry and lonesome through Houston seeking jazz or sex or soup, and followed the brilliant Spaniard to converse about America and Eternity, a hopeless task, and so took ship to Africa,

    who disappeared into the volcanoes of Mexico leaving behind nothing but the shadow of dungarees and the lava and ash of poetry scattered in fireplace Chicago,

    who reappeared on the West Coast investigating the FBI in beards and shorts with big pacifist eyes sexy in their dark skin passing out incomprehensible leaflets,

    who burned cigarette holes in their arms protesting the narcotic tobacco haze of Capitalism,

    who distributed Supercommunist pamphlets in Union Square weeping and undressing while the sirens of Los Alamos wailed them down, and wailed down Wall, and the Staten Island ferry also wailed,

    who broke down crying in white gymnasiums naked and trembling before the machinery of other skeletons,

    who bit detectives in the neck and shrieked with delight in policecars for committing no crime but their own wild cooking pederasty and intoxication,

    who howled on their knees in the subway and were dragged off the roof waving genitals and manuscripts,

    who let themselves be fucked in the ass by saintly motorcyclists, and screamed with joy,

    who blew and were blown by those human seraphim, the sailors, caresses of Atlantic and Caribbean love,

    who balled in the morning in the evenings in rosegardens and the grass of public parks and cemeteries scattering their semen freely to whomever come who may,

    who hiccuped endlessly trying to giggle but wound up with a sob behind a partition in a Turkish Bath when the blond & naked angel came to pierce them with a sword,

    who lost their loveboys to the three old shrews of fate the one eyed shrew of the heterosexual dollar the one eyed shrew that winks out of the womb and the one eyed shrew that does nothing but sit on her ass and snip the intellectual golden threads of the craftsman’s loom,

    who copulated ecstatic and insatiate with a bottle of beer a sweetheart a package of cigarettes a candle and fell off the bed, and continued along the floor and down the hall and ended fainting on the wall with a vision of ultimate cunt and come eluding the last gyzym of consciousness,

    who sweetened the snatches of a million girls trembling in the sunset, and were red eyed in the morning but prepared to sweeten the snatch of the sunrise, flashing buttocks under barns and naked in the lake,

    who went out whoring through Colorado in myriad stolen night-cars, N.C., secret hero of these poems, cocksman and Adonis of Denver—joy to the memory of his innumerable lays of girls in empty lots & diner backyards, moviehouses’ rickety rows, on mountaintops in caves or with gaunt waitresses in familiar roadside lonely petticoat upliftings & especially secret gas-station solipsisms of johns, & hometown alleys too,

    who faded out in vast sordid movies, were shifted in dreams, woke on a sudden Manhattan, and picked themselves up out of basements hung-over with heartless Tokay and horrors of Third Avenue iron dreams & stumbled to unemployment offices,

    who walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steam-heat and opium,

    who created great suicidal dramas on the apartment cliff-banks of the Hudson under the wartime blue floodlight of the moon & their heads shall be crowned with laurel in oblivion,

    who ate the lamb stew of the imagination or digested the crab at the muddy bottom of the rivers of Bowery,

    who wept at the romance of the streets with their pushcarts full of onions and bad music,

    who sat in boxes breathing in the darkness under the bridge, and rose up to build harpsichords in their lofts,

    who coughed on the sixth floor of Harlem crowned with flame under the tubercular sky surrounded by orange crates of theology,

    who scribbled all night rocking and rolling over lofty incantations which in the yellow morning were stanzas of gibberish,

    who cooked rotten animals lung heart feet tail borsht & tortillas dreaming of the pure vegetable kingdom,

    who plunged themselves under meat trucks looking for an egg,

    who threw their watches off the roof to cast their ballot for Eternity outside of Time, & alarm clocks fell on their heads every day for the next decade,

    who cut their wrists three times successively unsuccessfully, gave up and were forced to open antique stores where they thought they were growing old and cried,

    who were burned alive in their innocent flannel suits on Madison Avenue amid blasts of leaden verse & the tanked-up clatter of the iron regiments of fashion & the nitroglycerine shrieks of the fairies of advertising & the mustard gas of sinister intelligent editors, or were run down by the drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality,

    who jumped off the Brooklyn Bridge this actually happened and walked away unknown and forgotten into the ghostly daze of Chinatown soup alleyways & firetrucks, not even one free beer,

    who sang out of their windows in despair, fell out of the subway window, jumped in the filthy Passaic, leaped on negroes, cried all over the street, danced on broken wineglasses barefoot smashed phonograph records of nostalgic European 1930s German jazz finished the whiskey and threw up groaning into the bloody toilet, moans in their ears and the blast of colossal steamwhistles,

    who barreled down the highways of the past journeying to each other’s hotrod-Golgotha jail-solitude watch or Birmingham jazz incarnation,

    who drove crosscountry seventytwo hours to find out if I had a vision or you had a vision or he had a vision to find out Eternity,

    who journeyed to Denver, who died in Denver, who came back to Denver & waited in vain, who watched over Denver & brooded & loned in Denver and finally went away to find out the Time, & now Denver is lonesome for her heroes,

    who fell on their knees in hopeless cathedrals praying for each other’s salvation and light and breasts, until the soul illuminated its hair for a second,

    who crashed through their minds in jail waiting for impossible criminals with golden heads and the charm of reality in their hearts who sang sweet blues to Alcatraz,

    who retired to Mexico to cultivate a habit, or Rocky Mount to tender Buddha or Tangiers to boys or Southern Pacific to the black locomotive or Harvard to Narcissus to Woodlawn to the daisychain or grave,

    who demanded sanity trials accusing the radio of hypnotism & were left with their insanity & their hands & a hung jury,

    who threw potato salad at CCNY lecturers on Dadaism and subsequently presented themselves on the granite steps of the madhouse with shaven heads and harlequin speech of suicide, demanding instantaneous lobotomy,

    and who were given instead the concrete void of insulin Metrazol electricity hydrotherapy psychotherapy occupational therapy pingpong & amnesia,

    who in humorless protest overturned only one symbolic pingpong table, resting briefly in catatonia,

    returning years later truly bald except for a wig of blood, and tears and fingers, to the visible madman doom of the wards of the madtowns of the East,

    Pilgrim State’s Rockland’s and Greystone’s foetid halls, bickering with the echoes of the soul, rocking and rolling in the midnight solitude-bench dolmen-realms of love, dream of life a nightmare, bodies turned to stone as heavy as the moon,

    with mother finally ******, and the last fantastic book flung out of the tenement window, and the last door closed at 4 A.M. and the last telephone slammed at the wall in reply and the last furnished room emptied down to the last piece of mental furniture, a yellow paper rose twisted on a wire hanger in the closet, and even that imaginary, nothing but a hopeful little bit of hallucination—

    ah, Carl, while you are not safe I am not safe, and now you’re really in the total animal soup of time—

    and who therefore ran through the icy streets obsessed with a sudden flash of the alchemy of the use of the ellipsis catalogue a variable measure and the vibrating plane,

    who dreamt and made incarnate gaps in Time & Space through images juxtaposed, and trapped the archangel of the soul between 2 visual images and joined the elemental verbs and set the noun and dash of consciousness together jumping with sensation of Pater Omnipotens Aeterna Deus

    to recreate the syntax and measure of poor human prose and stand before you speechless and intelligent and shaking with shame, rejected yet confessing out the soul to conform to the rhythm of thought in his naked and endless head,

    the madman bum and angel beat in Time, unknown, yet putting down here what might be left to say in time come after death,

    and rose reincarnate in the ghostly clothes of jazz in the goldhorn shadow of the band and blew the suffering of America’s naked mind for love into an eli eli lamma lamma sabacthani saxophone cry that shivered the cities down to the last radio

    with the absolute heart of the poem of life butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years.



    II


    What sphinx of cement and aluminum bashed open their skulls and ate up their brains and imagination?

    Moloch! Solitude! Filth! Ugliness! Ashcans and unobtainable dollars! Children screaming under the stairways! Boys sobbing in armies! Old men weeping in the parks!

    Moloch! Moloch! Nightmare of Moloch! Moloch the loveless! Mental Moloch! Moloch the heavy judger of men!

    Moloch the incomprehensible prison! Moloch the crossbone soulless jailhouse and Congress of sorrows! Moloch whose buildings are judgment! Moloch the vast stone of war! Moloch the stunned governments!

    Moloch whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb!

    Moloch whose eyes are a thousand blind windows! Moloch whose skyscrapers stand in the long streets like endless Jehovahs! Moloch whose factories dream and croak in the fog! Moloch whose smoke-stacks and antennae crown the cities!

    Moloch whose love is endless oil and stone! Moloch whose soul is electricity and banks! Moloch whose poverty is the specter of genius! Moloch whose fate is a cloud of sexless hydrogen! Moloch whose name is the Mind!

    Moloch in whom I sit lonely! Moloch in whom I dream Angels! Crazy in Moloch! Cocksucker in Moloch! Lacklove and manless in Moloch!

    Moloch who entered my soul early! Moloch in whom I am a consciousness without a body! Moloch who frightened me out of my natural ecstasy! Moloch whom I abandon! Wake up in Moloch! Light streaming out of the sky!

    Moloch! Moloch! Robot apartments! invisible suburbs! skeleton treasuries! blind capitals! demonic industries! spectral nations! invincible madhouses! granite cocks! monstrous bombs!

    They broke their backs lifting Moloch to Heaven! Pavements, trees, radios, tons! lifting the city to Heaven which exists and is everywhere about us!

    Visions! omens! hallucinations! miracles! ecstasies! gone down the American river!

    Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!

    Breakthroughs! over the river! flips and crucifixions! gone down the flood! Highs! Epiphanies! Despairs! Ten years’ animal screams and suicides! Minds! New loves! Mad generation! down on the rocks of Time!

    Real holy laughter in the river! They saw it all! the wild eyes! the holy yells! They bade farewell! They jumped off the roof! to solitude! waving! carrying flowers! Down to the river! into the street!



    III


    Carl Solomon! I’m with you in Rockland

    where you’re madder than I am

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you must feel very strange

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you imitate the shade of my mother

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you’ve murdered your twelve secretaries

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you laugh at this invisible humor

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where we are great writers on the same dreadful typewriter

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where your condition has become serious and is reported on the radio

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where the faculties of the skull no longer admit the worms of the senses

    I'm with you in Rockland

    where you drink the tea of the breasts of the spinsters of Utica

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you pun on the bodies of your nurses the harpies of the Bronx

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you scream in a straightjacket that you’re losing the game of the actual pingpong of the abyss

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you bang on the catatonic piano the soul is innocent and immortal it should never die ungodly in an armed madhouse

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where fifty more shocks will never return your soul to its body again from its pilgrimage to a cross in the void

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you accuse your doctors of insanity and plot the Hebrew socialist revolution against the fascist national Golgotha

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where you will split the heavens of Long Island and resurrect your living human Jesus from the superhuman tomb

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where there are twentyfive thousand mad comrades all together singing the final stanzas of the Internationale

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where we hug and kiss the United States under our bedsheets the United States that coughs all night and won’t let us sleep

    I’m with you in Rockland

    where we wake up electrified out of the coma by our own souls’ airplanes roaring over the roof they’ve come to drop angelic bombs the hospital illuminates itself imaginary walls collapse O skinny legions run outside O starry-spangled shock of mercy the eternal war is here O victory forget your underwear we’re free

    I’m with you in Rockland

    in my dreams you walk dripping from a sea-journey on the highway across America in tears to the door of my cottage in the Western night

    San Francisco, 1955—1956

 
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