Valentine to Allen Ginsberg
To Allen Ginsberg
I kissed you, Allen,
when I was living on 112 and Broadway
Working late one night, at the west end tea room,
Where the young lords and the Panthers gathered
to discuss the tactics
of the eyes and ears and the teeth of the beast
as it twists each against each to the Desecration for all
then and now, the old dog still uses that same old trick
It was a really a good night,
you had to call loud to get through the crowd
I got the gig with the help of my sister,
you might have met her by now,
She taught me a trick, enabling you to move through the crowd
with five maybe six double full beers
held one-handed above your head.
It's simple, just whistle, like an ambulance,
it really gets people to step aside.
Well, it was at the end, of one of those kinds of nights
Whistling and side stepping up to the service bar,
Where Guru bartender John told me' that you,
were hold up along the north side of the bar
in a booth facing east.
That night I had, a jesters tear falling from my left eye,
painted in greens and blues.
my hair in Celtic shamanic braids,
and wearing something deep dark and in style,
feeling expansive, young and old,
I went straight around the long circle bar
so l could come in from the east
swoop by and plant a big one on your harry cheek
Thinking of you takes me,
takes me a distance,
To the psychedelic village and all her fine people
All along Bleecker & MacDougal streets with the sidewalks cafe's
above and below, like the cafe basement
where I danced and Dave Von wailed his epic songs
Upstares at street level the obscure little closet shop
where the inspired artist made scribble portraits.
All around the rhythm and beat and rumbling
from down under the streets
leading up to, the cement scraping the sky.
In those times millions would gather together.
Their demands changed the world with singing,
loud into the sky and laying down in front
of the temporal power of politicians and rulers,
where the dark lights dimming the world
was hidden from our hopeful waiting to see the dawn
While in a back ally, on a brownstone roof, a stone Madonna looked down,
as my psychedelic teachers, left their mortar grottos headed out west
on the path of a rattlesnake venom that had an answer to the riddle
I wasn't looking back
As I approached, bar tray held low and tight to my side.
Spotted your eyes right away,
you were watching Broadway out the doors where the people enter in,
I was impressed by your size, wondering, what I courted, to be so rude
was it your fame, or your wisdom, or just plane wonderment pulling me around that old circle bar to come in for the ambush,
Or was I hoping to leave something of my future
as the red tail does in our dream times.
I was bold from getting my teaching in the streets and on the fringe
why I even remember the deep significant
dust in a corner of my block.
under the great looming towers and the alien street light moons
and the moment of joy of realization how the Macro-microcosm
fit into each other
To me, and a horde of others you were something,
something inspiring and flying free
Your aura glistening with the magic of the quenched ego
knowing its ignorance while basking all the same in notoriety.
Surprised me with the sounding of sonar inward
to distance madness and a bit of acrid fear,
emanating into the diminishing spaces between us
I look into the footprints of this long cold trail,
and see you thriving, in the visions of the belly of the beast,
Comfortably, surfing the acid waves of the peristaltic rhythms.
delighting, in the parasites seething dance
moving through the fleshy walls of the big apple
There you were, ice fishing in the content breezes of a city summer
with the jut box wailing a lullaby song of Bob and Jonny.
Just fishing through the contents
of the beast's last meal of crying children's dream.
Hooking up the fragments of the super unconscious. to dance
in your delightful articulate embrace.
Bringing forth offspring of joy and dread wisdom
and maybe some grace.
leading away from this den of oblivion.
?Was it this moment? that helped propel me
like some homeopathic remedy.
an insignificant kiss on the cheek,
not unlike the kiss before the peace parley,
Or did Judas not kiss his friend before a seaming end.
Appareling as it seemed, it propels me to dance into the
catatonic chaotic wordlessness.
on the way to another side of the theMultibrot set
all the while thinking ambush,
as my steps lead up to your table
and into your eyes, with riddles or questions
or a statement, I forget which words broke through,
too fast to be ...answered
'I just want to kiss you'' I said
and then as the sound settled in your inner ear,
My mouth without lipstick came hollow
up to your hairy protected cheek,
silent unknowing wailing in the touch
and I did.
Now down through the wormhole of seeming distance and
time, finding myself here, on this side of that snake's trail,
looking back with only light fractals between us
ya know, I can talk to you, any time now,
Tell you how here in the west, the barber wires being pulled up
to make room for sprawling urban expansion.
( not so far from the stench of you know who ),
They even built a replica of one of the oldest volcanoes
on the continent. The very one that pulled this land out
of the waters billions of years ago,
and they built a village around it and called it 'Flintstones '
out on the highway to the grand canyon
Oblivion is still, our dominant act
From the platform of the current political giant
calling for a war, titled; The Last War,
to the small tip of the capitalistic tail,
entice'n us to re-cre-ate our desires
Through the same old deceptions,
when enough is never enough
Even here, they are cutting new trails of desecration
in and on, this only mountain in more than a thousand miles
that keeps the cycle of life alive,
plotting the deception far and wide right now as we stand
at her feet entangled
with our competitive egos fiddling for
the downward spiraling capitalistic feeding frenzy
plotting to rip up new minds, supplying the bate,
for the gratification of our insatiable consuming
of fashion and recreation
Allen, I believe you understand the grave significance
of all ancient legends of our mountain of male and female
pollen the sacred doorway for the sky beings
ancient writings in the stone and on the bones
and the trees rolled into newspaper
as well as all the scientific understandings of how
the delicate life supporting balance that this world maintains,
its interconectedv dirversity
And maybe Allen, from your point of view
you can see how it all connects up
to the great electric-magnetic flow of molecules
held together by the dream of the dense gravity,
of the true people's prayers
And how it's like dominoes, lined up across the earth,
and then tipping over at both ends
creating a change reaction headed for the center
I don't know which will come first
the loss of the environment or the last war.
or isn't that the same thing, like the elders, say;
'it really is all connected'
Anyway, Allen, if you were here, now,
with those pentagrams and hexagrams on the soles of your shoes,
and that light of the Imbolic fire warming the kabbalistic cauldron
at the gates of Annwn where the Tree Igdrasil sways in cosmic winds
leaving trails of blessings
Allen if you could be here now
I know you would sing a song
you would sing a song that would revive
all of our deaf apathetic catatonic confused