speceditor666 (speceditor666) wrote,



First published in Fig Leaf, April 2007


by Stephen M. Wilson


Dedicated to ‘The Summer of Love’ and to the memory of Allen Ginsberg.


What thoughts we have of you tonight, Allen Ginsberg, as

we drift down the dirt path, through the black machinery of night, with heartache—
consciously floating toward the bright comet.

            In our dreaming state and plying for inspiration, we stepped

into the feculent waters of Styx.

            What leeches and what piranhas! Whole schools swim

tonight! Waves full of sharks! Rays in the

undertow, eels in the kelp!—and you, Laura Nyro, what

are you doing down by the water?

            We saw you, Allen Ginsberg, childless, lonely, O Lion of Dharma(!),

swimming among the stars in the reflecting water and eyeing


            We heard you howl to him: My ass drags in the

Universe! Throw ashes in the air! Holy the Bop Apocalypse!

            We waded in and out of the dark ripples of water

following you and followed in our collective conscience by your echoing


            We stroked down the fast currents, together in our

fancy Nike’s, feeling heart-broke, yet possessed by frozen

delight and never passing judgment.

            Where are you going, Allen Ginsberg? Heaven’s Gate closes in

an hour. Which way does your soul point tonight?

            (we touch your ka and proceed on our odyssey into the

supernova and feel absolved).

            We will swim all night through celestial fires! The

trees on the bank all darkness to the night, blocking out the moon. You’ll not be


            We will float, dreaming of a crashed A-10,

past solar flares and meteors, to our comet, Hale-Bopp!

            Ah, dear beat-king, lonely old hipster,

what America did you leave when Do’s cancer was nigh and

yours as well? You got out a few days late. We still drift watching, waiting

for your one soul to join our thirty-nine.



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