Allen Ginsberg

[jedeu]

Allen Ginsberg you are dead.
Allen Ginsberg I wish I was.
Allen Ginsberg it hurts to breathe like
when air hits
my lungs
it stings like a
slug to the stomach, drop
kick fall to the ground
like a sack
of heavy bricks like a
pigeon shot by a BB gun like a
key
on a keyring
that you dropped 'cause you
weren't thinking,
heavy heavy, a
clink sound silver metal in the snow.
Allen Ginsberg I wish I could write you.
Allen Ginsberg I am stuck writing poems.
Allen Ginsberg I like a boy,
and I am a boy, and
my mother doesn't
understand
this, and
drunk guys at the bus stop
give us crap, sayin'
fag
fag
fag
'cause they're drunk and we're
more offensive than god, our
hand-holding
is offensive, our
valentine's day cards
are offensive, even the
pizza I got him
'cause he was hungry
is offensive.
Allen Ginsberg my love is ugly.
Allen Ginsberg my love is real.
Allen Ginsberg I write this to you
because I feel like
you would
get it
if you were still alive.
Allen Ginsberg my grandfather is dead.
Allen Ginsberg I don't know if
you would have got along, but
he was still
a wonderful man, named for
a saint, always looking
dapper with a
shaved face and clean
clothes, always
joking with me 'cause he thought I
was okay.
Allen Ginsberg I know I am okay,
but sometimes
people
make me forget.
Allen Ginsberg I need to practice.
Allen Ginsberg my life is crazy.
Allen Ginsberg I just want to extend
an olive branch
to anyone who I ever
wronged, former
boyfriends former
best friends former
room mates former
anything I just want to make
everything
okay.
-- i.p. ebert, feb. 2010