For The Ginz Soon After His Demise

One more oldie, written shortly after Allen Ginsberg's death:

4/19/97 4:03 PM


FOR THE GINZ

You’ve been dead 2 weeks.
Tomorrow I’m taking my friend to your memorial.
She’s young and doesn’t know your poetry, didn’t know you.
I dug out Howl from the bookshelf
(those City Light pamphlets can get lost among the hardbacks)
And tried to rehearse a few poems to read to her later
So she’d have some feeling for who you were.
But every time I got two lines in—
Even in a funny one like America—
(didn’t even try sad heart-broke Sunflower Sutra)
My voice began to warble and I started to cry.

I saw you many times with crazy Trungpa.
Once I escorted you into a private interview with him.
You probably wouldn’t remember.
He and Corso called you “the Ginz”
After Trungpa died I thanked you,
Dharma brother,
For introducing me to Buddhism when I was adolescent,
You and Jack,
Through your books.
You were sweet and humble and said “That was our intent.”
A couple of years ago we spoke on the phone about enlightenment,
And you wondered out loud if anyone really was.
That made me sad.

But those peyote solidities you pointed out to me
Your top-hat poster in the 60’s
Williams, Blake and Whitman you taught me at Naropa
(I still have an edition of collected Whitman you signed, after all these years)
Strange now to think of you
In Amitabha’s Western Paradise!