Collected Poems 1947-1997 - Ginsberg Allen. Страница 226
She had tooth troubles, teeth too old, ground down like horse molars—
she opened her mouth to display her gorge—how can she live
with that, how eat I thought, mushroom-like gray-white horseshoe of
incisors she chomped with, hard flat flowers ranged around her gums.
Then I recognized she was my mother, Naomi, habiting
this old city-edge corner, older than I knew her before
her life diappeared. What are you doing here? I asked, amazed
she recognized me still, astounded to see her sitting up
on her own, chin raised to greet me mocking “I’m living alone,
you all abandoned me, I’m a great woman, I came here
by myself, I wanted to live, now I’m too old to take care
of myself, I don’t care, what are you doing here?” I
was looking for a house, I thought, she has one, in poor
Bronx, needs someone to help her shop and cook, needs her children now,
I’m her younger son, walked past her alleyway by accident,
but here she is survived, sleeping at night awake on that
wooden platform. Has she an extra room? I noticed her cave
adjoined an apartment door, unpainted basement storeroom
facing her shelter in the building side. I could live here,
worst comes to worst, best place I’ll find, near my mother in
our mortal life. My years of haunting continental city streets,
apartment dreams, old rooms I used to live in, still paid rent for,
key didn’t work, locks changed, immigrant families occupied
my familiar hallway lodgings—I’d wandered downhill homeless
avenues, money lost, or’d come back to the flat—But couldn’t
recognize my house in London, Paris, Bronx, by Columbia
library, downtown 8th Avenue near Chelsea Subway—
Those years unsettled—were over now, here I could live
forever, here have a home, with Naomi, at long last,
at long long last, my search was ended in this pleasant way,
time to care for her before death, long way to go yet,
lots of trouble her cantankerous habits, shameful blankets
near the street, tooth pots, dirty pans, half paralyzed irritable,
she needed my middle aged strength and worldly money knowledge,
housekeeping art. I can cook and write books for a living,
she’ll not have to beg her medicine food, a new set of teeth
for company, won’t yell at the world, I can afford a telephone,
after twenty-five years we could call up Aunt Edie in California,
I’ll have a place to stay. “Best of all,” I told Naomi
“Now don’t get mad, you realize your old enemy Grandma’s
still alive! She lives a couple blocks down hill, I just saw her,
like you!” My breast rejoiced, all my troubles over, she was
content, too old to care or yell her grudge, only complaining
her bad teeth. What long-sought peace!
Then glad of life I woke
in Boulder before dawn, my second story bedroom windows
Bluff Street facing East over town rooftops, I returned
from the Land of the Dead to living Poesy, and wrote
this tale of long lost joy, to have seen my mother again!
And when the ink ran out of my pen, and rosy violet
illumined city treetop skies above the Flatiron Front Range,
I went downstairs to the shady living room, where Peter Orlovsky
sat with long hair lit by television glow to watch
the sunrise weather news, I kissed him & filled my pen and wept.
October 5, 1983, 6:35 A.M.
Empire Air
Flying to Rochester Institute of Technology
Rising above the used car lots & colored dumps of Long Island
stubby white smokestreams drift North above th’ Egyptic Factory roof’d monolith
into gray clouds, Conquer the world!
World Health restored with organic orange juice & Tibetan mule-dung-smelling Pills—Conquer the World Conquer the World
Conquer the World of Ego, Conquer World Anger
Conquer brick Worlds, Mortal Factories!
Conquer the Dewdrop? Conquer white clouded Sky we pass through?—
O ever-rising intelligent Sun conquer the night of Mind
Conquer War O Technologic Warrior
1 ride above the Sun
I look down into the Sun
I’m equal to Sun, Sun & I on the level
I’ve no appendicitis, I hang a Brooks Brothers tie
My clothes are Salvation Army! Conquer America! Conquer Greed! Conquer warmonger Hands!
Conquer yourself! Conquer your gluttony Ginsberg! Conquer lust for Conquest!
Conquer Conquest at last! All right Jack Number One! Creon wrecks Imperial City!
Conquer by Calm! Conquer by not getting laid, growing younger & older same time!
Conquer by having a hard on! Conquer all space by giving it away! Conquer the Universe by inhabiting it!
Conquer by Dying! By eating decently! Wash yr behind after you move your bowels!
Pronounce your mother American language marvelously, mouth every syllable, savor every vowel, appreciate each consonant!
above the clouds! Conquer Karma, the chain of Cause and Effect
Conquer Cause & Effect, see it work the Cold War!
See it work in your heart!
Insult your girlfriend you’ll feel hurt!
Insult Nicaragua you feel lousy
Insult the President you insult yourself
Conquer the President by not insulting him!
Don’t insult yourself! stop insulting the Russians! stop insulting the enemy!
It costs $220800000000 a year to insult the enemy!
Conquer Underdeveloped Nation Hunger Debt! Conquer World Grief Bank default! Go Conquer mortal Nuclear Waste!
Then go back Conquer your own heart!
January 30, 1984
Surprise Mind
How lucky we are to have windows!
Glass is transparent!
I saw that boy in red bathingsuit
walk down the street.
July 7, 1984, 8:30 A.M.