Who is your hero, Allen Ginsberg?
Do you still wander the moon-lit streets
And take in the broken hearts that miraculously beat
For you? Keeping your ears open
For the howls of quick fucks
Looking for what to look for?
Who is your lover, Allen Ginsberg?
Are you still fisting your cock
At the image of thousands of lonely men
Without homes, without wives
Waiting for you to take them in?
Who do you pray to, Allen Ginsberg?
Is it your soiled, sordid savior
A prophecy remade of
Dripping sodomy to carry out
The divinity of being Afraid?
II.
II.
I hope that you'll find
In time
The world isn't all it used
To be-
America, it swelters
And hides
Its prejudices
Smartly, behind
Its brilliant sunflowers;
And they're growing
Tall, and technicolor
And they are alive.
III.
I take a train
To give you this letter,
And hope my words
Will press against your two lips;
I missed your funeral, Allen Ginsberg.
Your corpse is in the earth, now
And I'm changing your dirty sheets
There's a budding rose
On the counter
I hope it finds you
Well.
Special thanks to Michael Ruff for reminding me of Kaddish.
In time
The world isn't all it used
To be-
America, it swelters
And hides
Its prejudices
Smartly, behind
Its brilliant sunflowers;
And they're growing
Tall, and technicolor
And they are alive.
III.
I take a train
To give you this letter,
And hope my words
Will press against your two lips;
I missed your funeral, Allen Ginsberg.
Your corpse is in the earth, now
And I'm changing your dirty sheets
There's a budding rose
On the counter
I hope it finds you
Well.
Special thanks to Michael Ruff for reminding me of Kaddish.
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