Wednesday, May 28

This week's poem by Allan Ginsberg

WILD ORPHAN (New York, April 13, 1952)

Blandly mother
takes him strolling
by railroad and by river
-he’s the son of the absconded
hot rod angel-
and he imagines cars
and rides them in his dreams,

so lonely growing up among
the imaginary automobiles
and dead souls of Tarrytown

to create
out of his own imagination
the beauty of his wild
forebears-a mythology
he cannot inherit.

Will he later hallucinate
his gods? Waking
among mysteries with
an insane gleam
of recollection?

The recognition-
something so rare,
in his soul,
met only in dreams
of another life.

A question of the soul,
And the injured
losing their injury
in their innocence
-a cock, a cross,
an excellence of love.

And the father grieves
in flophouse
complexities of memory
a thousands miles
away, unknowing
of the unexpected
youthful stranger bumming toward his door

Allen Ginsberg


Delightfully Imperfect said...

Just stopping in to wish you well. Roxie

Delightfully Imperfect said...

No new post in month - I am wondering how you are doing? Why have the posts stopped? I hope you and your family are well.

Bita said...

I am still here and thankful that I have friends such as yourself. and by the way I like what is "delightfully imperfect".


Delightfully Imperfect said...

If you enjoy what is delightfully imperfect then you may even like my book, published in June. It's on Amazon. The Brain God Gave Me.