Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen. Страница 133

                    Rainbow horn, Silence!

So sings the laborer under the rock bridge,

so pipes pray to the Avalanche.

Big Sur, June 16, 1968 (grass)

Crossing Nation

Under silver wing

          San Francisco’s towers sprouting

                              thru thin gas clouds,

          Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure

                    Berkeley hills pine-covered below—

Dr. Leary in his brown house scribing Independence Declaration

                         typewriter at window

                    silver panorama in natural eyeball—

Sacramento valley rivercourse’s Chinese

                         dragonflames licking green flats north-hazed

               State Capitol metallic rubble, dry checkered fields

                         to Sierras—past Reno, Pyramid Lake’s

                         blue Altar, pure water in Nevada sands’

                                   brown wasteland scratched by tires

               Jerry Rubin arrested! Beaten, jailed,

                         coccyx broken—

Leary out of action—“a public menace …

               persons of tender years … immature

                         judgment… psychiatric examination …”

i.e. Shut up or Else Loonybin or Slam

LeRoi on bum gun rap, $7,000

                         lawyer fees, years’ negotiations—

SPOCK GUILTY headlined temporary, Joan Baez’

                         paramour husband Dave Harris to Gaol

Dylan silent on politics, & safe—

                         having a baby, a man—

Cleaver shot at, jail’d, maddened, parole revoked,

Vietnam War flesh-heap grows higher,

                         blood splashing down the mountains of bodies

                                   on to Cholon’s sidewalks—

Blond boys in airplane seats fed technicolor

                         Murderers advance w/ Death-chords

                                        thru photo basement,

                         Earplugs in, steak on plastic

                                        served—Eyes up to the Image—

What do I have to lose if America falls?

               my body? my neck? my personality?

June 19, 1968

Smoke Rolling Down Street

Red Scabies on the Skin

Police Cars turn Garbage Corner—

Was that a Shot! Backfire or Cherry Bomb?

Ah, it’s all right, take the mouth off,

it’s all over.

Man Came a long way,

Canoes thru Fire Engines,

Big Cities’ power station Fumes

Executives with Country Houses—

Waters drip thru Ceilings in the Slum—

It’s all right, take the mouth off

it’s all over—

                                   New York, June 23, 1968

Pertussin

Always Ether Comes

               to dissuade the

                         goat-like

                                   sensible—

or N₂O recurring to

               elicit ironic

                         suicidal pen marks—

Parallels: in Montmartre Rousseau

               daubing or Rimbaud arriving,

                         the raw Aether

shines with Brahmanic cool moonshine

               aftertaste, midnight Nostalgia.

June 28, 1968

Swirls of black dust on Avenue D

white haze over Manhattan’s towers

               midsummer green Cattails’ fatness

                         surrounding Hoboken Marsh

                                        garbage Dumps,

Wind over Pulaski Skyway’s

               lacy networks

Trucks crash Bayonne’s roadways,

               iron engines roar

Stink rises over Hydro Pruf Factory

Cranes lift over broken earth

Brain Clouds boil out tin-cone scrap burners

                         Newark sits in gray gas

                         July heat gleams on airplanes

Trailer tyres sing toward forests of oiltowers,

Power grids dance in th’Iron Triangle,

                         Tanks roast in Flatness—

Old Soybean-oil-storage Scandals

                                        echo thru airwaves,

the family car bumps over asphalt toward Bright Mexico.

July 10, 1968

Violence

Mexcity drugstore table, giant

               sexfiend in black spats

Sticks knife in a plump faggot’s

               sportscoat seam;

at Teotihuacan in blue sunlight, I slap

               my mocking blond nephew

               for getting lost on the Moon

               Pyramid.

In Oakland, legendary police shoot a

               naked black boy running out

               of his political basement