Allen Ginsberg

The flower in the glass peanut bottle formerly in the
kitchen crooked to take a place in the light, the closet door opened, because I used it before, it
kindly stayed open waiting for me, its owner.
I began to feel my misery in…

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,…

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,…

To Ezra
These are the names of the companies that have made
money from this warnineteenhundredsixtyeight Annodomini fourthousand
eighty

railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench near the switchman's shack.
A flower lay on the hay on

That tree said
I don't like that white car under me,
it smells
That other tree next to it said

The weight of the worldis love.
Under the burdenof solitude,
under the burdenof dissatisfactionthe weight,
the weight we carryis love.

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.
Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we…

"Soyez muette pour moi,
Idole contemplative…"I came home and found a lion in my living
Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion!
Lion!

Is that the only way we can become like Indians, like Rhinoceri, like Quartz Crystals, like organic farmers, like what we imagine Adam & Eve to’ve been, caressing each other with trembling limbs before the Snake of Revolutionary Sex wrapped…

For Carl Solomon
I

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

What do I want in these rooms papered with visions of money?
How much can I make by cutting my hair?
If I put new heels on my shoes, bathe my body reeking of masturbation and sweat, layer upon layer of excrement dried in employment…

You'll bare your bones you'll grow you'll pray you'll only
When the light appears, boy, when the light
You'll sing & you'll love you'll praise blue heavens
When the light appears, boy, when the light

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…

Holy!
Holy!
Holy!
Holy!

Whom bomb?
We bomb'd them!
Whom bomb?
We bomb'd them!

Tail turned to red sunset on a juniper crown a lone magpie cawks.
Mad at Oryoki in the shrine-room — Thistles blossomed late afternoon.
Put on my shirt and took it off in the sun walking the path to lunch.
A dandelion seed floats…

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets 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…

What new element before us unborn in nature?
Is there
a new thing under the Sun?
At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative

And the Communists have nothing to offer but fat cheeks and eyeglasses and lying policemen and the Capitalists proffer Napalm and money in green suitcases to the Naked, and the Communists create heavy industry but the heart is also heavy and the…

In the foreground we see time and lifeswept in a racetoward the left hand side of the picturewhere shore meets shore.
But that meeting placeisn't represented;
it doesn't occur on the canvas.
For the other side of the bayis Heaven…

I — A Pleasant Afternoon
for Michael Brownstein and Dick
One day 3 poets and 60 ears sat under a green-striped Chau-
tauqua tent in Auroralistening to Black spirituals, tapping their feet, appreciating

Under silver wing
San Francisco's towers sprouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure