Wednesday, May 04, 2005
Which way does your beard point tonight?
Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an
hour. Which way does your beard point tonight?
(I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the super-
market and feel absurd.)
Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees
Add shade to the shade, lights out in the houses, we’ll both be lonely.
Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue
Automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what
America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you
Got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear
On the black waters of Lethe?
From the last section of A.G.’s "A Supermarket in California."
Reading more Ginsberg tonight. --TD
