Feb. 29, 1958 – Allen Ginsberg

Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot
welcoming me to the land of dream
Sofas couches fog in England
Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows
curtains on his windows, fog seeping in
the chimney but a nice warm house
and an incredibly sweet hooknosed
Eliot he loved me, put me up,
gave me a couch to sleep on,
conversed kindly, took me serious
asked my opinion on Mayakovsky
I read him Corso Creeley Kerouac
advised Burroughs Olson Huncke
the bearded lady in the Zoo, the
intelligent puma in Mexico City
6 chorus boys from Zanzibar
who chanted in wornout polygot
Swahili, and the rippling rythyms
of Ma Rainey and Vachel Lindsay.
On the Isle of the Queen
we had a long evening’s conversation
Then he tucked me in my long
red underwear under a silken
blanket by the fire on the sofa
gave me English Hottie
and went off sadly to his bed,
Saying ah Ginsberg I am glad
to have met a fine young man like you.
At last, I woke ashamed of myself.
Is he that good and kind? Am I that great?
What’s my motive dreaming his
manna? What English Department
would that impress? What failure
to be perfect prophet’s made up here?
I dream of my kindness to T.S. Eliot
wanting to be a historical poet
and share in his finance of Imagery-
overambitious dream of eccentric boy.
God forbid my evil dreams come true.
Last nite I dreamed of Allen Ginsberg.
T.S. Eliot would’ve been ashamed of me.

~ Feb. 29, 1958 – Allen Ginsberg

  • The First Dream ~
    and as I lean against the door of sleep The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight I begin to think about the first person to dream, draped in the skins of animals talking to each other only in vowels, for this was long before the invention of consonants. He might have gone off by … Read more
  • The pendulum of love ~
    “BEING EASY WITH THE PENDULUM OF LIFE!” a Sunday poem ©️ Isn’t EMPTY – just-a-state-of-mind? And-being-FULL-may-be-too! Can-we-be-neither-full-nor-empty? Really, what is true? The opposite of boring – may-be crea-ti-vi-ty! Our body-mind connection(s) – It’s all a mystery! I’ve been too-filled at times, I think -EXTREMES ARE QUITE THE THING! Observing-our-moods – as-a-pendulum – has a “classic … Read more
  • Do you think it’s a sin
      But she caught herself before she fell – she grabbed – some-cheese- and-a pear, And some bread with butter – and some jam with cream, “PRETTY?” SHE said, eyes so wide – and, I think, she-started-to-”stream,” Like-she-was-NOT-on-a-diet! (pause) She was jamming it all in, Her eyes, so wide – with wonder: “DO YOU THINK … Read more
  • Watch “Nelson Mandela’s Favorite Poem ‘Invictus’ Read by Morgan Freeman”
    https://youtu.be/SAa6qdBN7Z0 https://youtu.be/PyfOrbO0xf4
  • Walt Whitman 200 | Academy of American Poets
  • Words, words words! How to read Shakespeare
  • ~ Faces In The Street – Henry Lawson
    They lie, the men who tell us for reasons of their own That want is here a stranger, and that misery's unknown; For where the nearest suburb and the city proper meet My window-sill is level with the faces in the street Drifting past, drifting past, To the beat of weary feet While I sorrow … Read more
  • Henry Lawson ~ Australia
    We boast no more of our bloodless flag, that rose from a nation's slime; Better a shred of a deep-dyed rag from the storms of the olden time. From grander clouds in our `peaceful skies' than ever were there before I tell you the Star of the South shall rise — in the lurid clouds … Read more
  • For every bird there is this last migration;
    Once more the cooling year kindles her heart;
    With a warm passage to the summer station
    Love pricks the course in lights across the chart.
    For every bird there is this last migration; Once more the cooling year kindles her heart; With a warm passage to the summer station Love pricks the course in lights across the chart. Year after year a speck on the map, divided By a whole hemisphere, summons her to come; Season after season, sure and … Read more
  • Poetry~~ The Swimmer – Adam Lindsay Gordon
    With short, sharp violent lights made vivid, To the southward far as the sight can roam, Only the swirl of the surges livid, The seas that climb and the surfs that comb, Only the crag and the cliff to nor'ward, And rocks receding, and reefs flung forward, And waifs wreck'd seaward and wasted shoreward On … Read more
  • ~ An Epitaph On A Child Of Queen Elizabeth’s Chapel – Ben Jonson
    Weep with me, all you that read This little story; And know, for whom a tear you shed Death's self is sorry. 'Twas a child that so did thrive In grace and feature, As heaven and nature seemed to strive Which owned the creature. Years he numbered scarce thirteen When fates turned cruel, Yet three … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    "The Treasure and the Low"–Puck of Pook's Hills. Where first by Eden Tree The Four Great Rivers ran, To each was appointed a Man Her Prince and Ruler to be. But after this was ordained (The ancient legends' tell), There came dark Israel, For whom no River remained. Then He Whom the Rivers obey Said … Read more
  • Famous Poets
    Where run your colts at pasture? Where hide your mares to breed? 'Mid bergs about the Ice-cap Or wove Sargasso weed; By chartless reef and channel, Or crafty coastwise bars, But most the ocean-meadows All purple to the stars! Who holds the rein upon you? The latest gale let free. What meat is in your … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    'Twas noontide of summer, And mid-time of night; And stars, in their orbits, Shone pale, thro' the light Of the brighter, cold moon, 'Mid planets her slaves, Herself in the Heavens, Her beam on the waves. I gazed awhile On her cold smile; Too cold- too cold for me- There pass'd, as a shroud, A … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    I. In the greenest of our valleys, By good angels tenanted, Once fair and stately palace — Radiant palace –reared its head. In the monarch Thought's dominion — It stood there! Never seraph spread a pinion Over fabric half so fair. II. Banners yellow, glorious, golden, On its roof did float and flow; (This –all … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    Dim vales- and shadowy floods- And cloudy-looking woods, Whose forms we can't discover For the tears that drip all over! Huge moons there wax and wane- Again- again- again- Every moment of the night- Forever changing places- And they put out the star-light With the breath from their pale faces. About twelve by the moon-dial, … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    Oh! that my young life were a lasting dream! My spirit not awakening, till the beam Of an Eternity should bring the morrow. Yes! tho' that long dream were of hopeless sorrow, 'Twere better than the cold reality Of waking life, to him whose heart must be, And hath been still, upon the lovely earth, … Read more
  • Famous Poet
    One from the ends of the earth — gifts at an open door — Treason has much, but we, Mother, thy sons have more! From the whine of a dying man, from the snarl of a wolf-pack freed, Turn, and the world is thine. Mother, be proud of thy seed! Count, are we feeble or … Read more

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.