Saturday, October 31, 2009

From "My Sad Self," Allen Ginsberg, 1958

Sometimes when my eyes are red
I go up on top of the RCA Building
and gaze at my world, Manhattan -
my buildings, streets I've done feats in,
lofts, beds, coldwater flats
- on Fifth Ave below which I also bear in mind,
its ant cars, little yellow taxis, men
walking the size of of specks of wool -
Panorama of the bridges, sunrise over Brooklyn machine,
sun go down over New Jersey where I was born
& Paterson where I played with ants -
my later loves on 15th Street,
my greater loves of Lower East Side,
my once fabulous amours in the Bronx
faraway -
paths crossing in these hidden streets,
my history summed up, my absences
and ecstasies in Harlem -
- sun shining down on all I own
in one eyeblink on the horizon
in my last eternity -
matter is water.