Photo by Allen Ginsberg12th Street, Manhattan, where he lived, 1980sWAKING IN NEW YORKLibretto - Poems by ALLEN GINSBERGPERSONALS ADCosmopolitan Greetings, Harper Collins, New York, 1994Poet professor in autumn yearsseeks helpmate companion protector friendyoung lover w/ empty compassionate soulexuberant spirit, straightforward handsome,athletic physique & boundless mind courageouswarrior who may also like women and girls, no problem,to share bed meditation apartment Lower East Sidehelp inspire mankind conquer world anger and guilt,empowered by Whitman, Blake Rimbaud Ma Rainey and Vivaldi,familiar respecting Arts primordial majesty, priapic, carefree,playful harmless slave or master, mortally tender passing swift time,photographer, musician, painter, poet, yuppie or scholarFind me here in New York alone with the Alonegoing to lady psychiatrist who says, Make time in your lifefor someone you can call darling honey, who holds you dear,can get excited an lay his head on your heart in peace. MAY DAYS 1988Cosmopolitan Greetings, Harper Collins, New York, 1994IAs I cross my kitchen floor the thought of Death returns,day after day, as I wake & drink lemon juice & hot water,brush my teeth & blow my nose, stand at toilet a yellow streamissuing from my body, look out curtained windows, across the streetMary Help of Christians R.C. Church, how many yearsempty the garbage pail, carry black plastic bags to the sidewalk,before I boil the last soft egg,day after day glance my altar sitting pillow a sidelong look & sigh,pass bookcases, Greek lyrics & volumes of Military Industrial Secrecy?How many mornings out the window Springtimes grey clouds driftover a wooden owlon the Rectory roof, pigeons flutter off the street lamp to an iron fence, Ireturn to kitchenoatmeal cooking in an iron pot, sit in a wooden chair, choose a soup-spoon, dreaming out the window eat my gruelas ailanthus trees bud and grow thick green, seaweed in rainy Atlantis,lose leaves after snowfall, sit bare-branched in Januarys rusty winds?snap photographs focusd on the clothesline, courtyard chimneypots aBlock away?How many years lie alone in bed and stroke my cockor real the Times on a pillow midnite, answer telephone talk, myStepmotheror Joe in Washington, wait for a knock on the door its portly Petersober hesitantinquiring supper, rarely visiting, rueful a life gone by you got themonthly rent?armfuls of mid morn mail arriving with despairing Secretaries rise and tuck my shirt in, turn the doorlock key, go down hallway stair,enter New York City, Christines Polish restaurant around East 12thStreet corner on 1st Avenuetaxi uptown to art museums or visit Dr. Brown, chest x-rays, smokingcough or fluTurn on the News from Palestine, Listen to Leadbellys tape lament,Black Girl, Jim Crow, Irene andSunday Puerto Ricans climb concrete steps week after week to church. IISox in the laundry, snap on the kitchen light midnite iceboxraid, sun-dried tomatoes, soft swiss cheese & ham, Pineapple juice,low rent control $260 per mo, clear sanded gymseald floors, whitewalls,Blakes Tyger on the bedroom bookcase, cabs rattling on dark asphaltbelow,Silence, a solitary house, Charles Fourier on bedside table waitinginspection, switch light off Pajamas in drawer for sleep, 80 volumes behind the headboard forbrowsing Irving Howes Yiddish Poetry, Attila Jzsef, Sashibusan Das GuptasObscure Religious Cults, Cline, De Vulgaris Eloquentia -What riches for old age? What cozy naps and long nights dreams?Browsing in Persepolis and Lhasa?What more ask existence? Except time, more time, ripe time & calm& Warless time to contemplate collapsing years, tho body teeth brainelbow ache,a crooked creak at backbone bottom, dry nostrils, mottled ankle& smart tongue, how many years to talk, snap photos, sing in theatersimprovise in classroom street church radio, far from Congress?How many more years eyes closed 9 A.M. wake worryingthe ulcer in my cheek isnt cancer? Should I have charged BurroughsBiographer for photosreprinted from 40 years ago? Miles the editors stylistic competence OKfor Lit Hist Beat Generation? Should I rise and meditateor sleep in daylight recuperate flu? Phone ringing half an hour agoWhats on the Answer Machine? Give back Advances to Harpers?Who promised deadlines for this photo book? Wasnt I up 2 A.M.revising Poems?Spontaneous verse?!? Take a plane to Greenland, visit Dublin?PEN Club meet May 17, decision Israeli Censorship Arabic Press?Call COYiddish translator poetess Zionist yenta?Write concentration camp expert moralist Elie Wiesel, whats his word"Arabs shd throw words not stones?" that quote accurate from theTimes?Should I get up right now, crosslegged scribbling Journalswith motor roar in street downstairs, stolen autos doctord at the curbor pull the covers over achy bones? How many years awake or sleepyHow many mornings to be or not to be?How many mornings Mays to come, birds chirp insistent on six-storyroofs?buds rise in backyard cities? Forsythia yellow by brick walls & rustybedsprings near the fence? IIIHow many Sundays wake and lie immobile eyes closed rememberingDeath,7 A.M. Spring Sunlight out the window the noise a Nuyorican Drunkardon the cornerreminds me of Peter, Naomi, my nephew Alan, am I mad myself, havealways been sowaking in N.Y. 61st year to realize childless I am a motherless freaklike so many millions, world from Paterson Los Angeles to AmazonHuman & Whales screaming in despair from Empire State BuildingTop to Arctic Ocean bottom--?May 1-3, 1988 LUNCHTIMECosmopolitan Greetings, Poems 1986-1992, Harper Collins, New York,1994Bird chirp in the brick backyard Radiopiano chopping gentle chords next doorA rush of tires & car exhaust on 14th StreetDelighted to be alive this cloudy ThursdayFebruary window open at the kitchen table,Senior Citizen ready for next weeks angiogram.February 20, 1992, 1:15 P.M. THE CHARNEL GROUNDCosmopolitan Greetings, Poems 1986-1992, Harper Collins, New York,1994Upstairs Jenny crashed her car & became a living corpse, Jake soldgrassthe white-bearded potbelly leprechaun silent climbed theirstaircaseEx-janitor John from Poland averted his eyes, cheeks flushed withVodka, wine who knew whatas he left his groundfloor flat, refusing to speak to the inhabitantApt. 24whos just put his boyfriend in Bellevue, calling police, white theartisticBuddhist composeron sixth floor lay spaced out feet swollen with water, dying slowly ofAIDS over a year The Chinese teacher cleaned & cooked in Apt. 23 for the homosexualpoet who pined for his gymnastthighs & buttocks Downstairs th old hippie flower girl fell drunkover the banister, smashed her jaw her son despite moderate fame cheated of rocknroll money, twentythousand people in stadiumscheering his tattooed skinhead murderous Hare Krishna vegetariandrum lyrics Mary born in the building rested on her cane, heavy-legged with heartFailure on the second landing, no more ableto vacation in Caracas & Dublin The Russian landladys husbandfrom concentration camp disappeared again nobody men-tioned hed died tenants took over her building for hot water, she couldnt add rent &paytaxes, wore a long coat hot daysalone & thin on the street carrying groceries to her crooked apartmentsilent One poet highschool teacher fell dead mysterious heart dysrhythmia,konked overin his mothers Brooklyn apartment, his first baby girl a year old, wifestoical a few days their growling noisy little dog had to go, the baby cried Meanwhile the upstairs meth head shot cocaine & yowled upand downEast 12th Street, kicked out of Christines Eatery till police corneredhim, top a hot iron steamholenear Stuyvesant Town Avenue A telephone booth calling his deafmother sirens speed the way to Bellevue past whispering grass crack salesman jittering in circles on East 10thStreetssouthwest corner where art yuppies come out of the overpriced JapaneseSushi Bar -- & they poured salt into potato soup heart failurevats at KKs Polish restaurantGarbage piled up, nonbiodegradable plastic bags emptied by diabeticSidewalk homelesslooking for returnable bottles recycles dolls radios half-eatenhamburgers thrown-away Danish On 13th Street the notary public sat in his dingy storefront, driversLessons & tax returns prepared on old metal desks Sunnysides crisped in butter, fries & sugary donuts passed over theLuncheonette counter next door The Hispanic lady yelled at the rude African-American behind the Postoffice window"I waited all week my welfare check you sent me notice I was hereyesterdayI want to see the supervisor bitch dont insult me refusing to look in "Closed eyes of Puerto Rican wino lips cracked skin red stretched outon the pavement, naphtha backdoor open for the Korean family drycleaners at the 14th Street corner Con Ed workmen drilled all year to bust electric pipes 6 feet deep inbrown dirtso cars bottlenecked wait minutes to pass the M14 bus stopped mid-road, heavy dressed senior citizens step down in red rubblewith Reduced Fare Program cards got from grey city Aging Departmentoffices downtown up the second flight by elevators dontwork News comes on the radio, they bomb Baghdad and the Garden of EdenAgain?A million starve in Sudan, mountains of east stacked on docks, localGangs & U.N.s trembling bureaucrat officers sweat near the equatorarguing overwheat piles shoved by bulldozers Swedish doctors ran out of medicine The Pakistan taxi driversays Salman Rushdie must die, insulting the Prophet in fictions "No that wasnt my opinion, just a character talking like in a poem nojudgment"-"Not till the suns rejects you do I," so give you a quarter by the Catholicchurch 14th St. you stand half drunkwaving a plastic glass, flush-faced, live with your mother a woundedlook on your lips, eyes squinting,receding lower jaw sometimes you dry out in Bellevue, most dayscadging dollars for sweet wineby the corner where Plump Blindman shifts from foot to foot showinghis white cane, rattling coins in a white paper cup some weekswhere girdling the subway entrance construction sawhorses paintedorangeguard steps underground And across the street the NYCE bankmachine cubicle door sign readsNot in Operation as taxis bump on potholes asphalt mounded at thecrossroad when red lights change green& Im on my way uptown to get a CAT scan liver biopsy, visit thecardiologist,account for high blood pressure, kidneystones, diabetes, misty eyes &dysesthesia feeling lack in feet soles, inside ankles, small of back, phallus head,anus Old age sickness death again come round in the wink of an eye High school youth the inside skin of my thighs was silken smooth thonobody touched there back then Across town the velvet poet takes Darvon N, Valium nightly, sleeps allday kicking methadonebetween brick walls sixth floor in a room cluttered with collages & golddot paper scraps coveredwith words: "The whole points seems to be the idea of giving away thegiver."August 19, 1992 JUMPING THE GUN ON THE SUNWhite Shroud Poems 1980-89, Harper Collins, 1986Sincerityis the keyto livingin EternityIf you loveHeavn aboveHold your ground,Look aroundHear the soundof television,No derision,Smell your bloodtaste your goodbagels & loxWash your sox& touch wood,Its understoodThis is itwild witMake your loveon earth above,home of the brave,Save yr gravefor future daysPresent herenothing to fearNo need to sighno need to diebefore your timementally whinestupidly dineon your own meatThats whats neatMortally greatImmortally sweetIncredibly deepmakes you weepJust this onceDont be a dunceTake your capoff Hear my rapSincerityis the keyto livingin EternityMakes you wisein your own eyesmakes the bodynot seem shoddyMakes your soulcompletely wholeempty, finalindefinablemobile, total-ly undeniableAffirmative actionfor no factionfor all menwomen, toomother, brother,even for youDead sould, sickbut really quickwith breath & thickwith blood in yr prickWalking aliveon riverside driveup on Broadwayshining gayin New Yorkwaving your dorkwaving your mindor living behindyour meaty masquemagnificent taskall you could askas if pure spacegave you a placein Eternity To see the CityStand all dayShine all nightBright starlightstreaming the heightWatery lawnwarmed by the sunBathed in the moongreen grasses of June80 times onlyDont be lonelyRoses are liveCockroaches thrivein plastic garbagemaggots salvageyour dead meatHorses eatgolden hayin golden dayYoung kids jumpin the City dumpTake the lumpin your throatand sing outyr holy noteof hearts delightin living lightDay NightSincerityis the keyto livingin EternityApril 5, 1995 MANHATTAN THIRTIES FLASHCollected Poems 1947-1980, Harper Collins, New York, 1984Long stone street inanimate, repetitive machine Crash cookie-cuttingdynamo rows of soulless replica Similitudes brooding tank-like in ArmyDepotsExactly the same exactly the same exactly the same with no purpose butGrimness& overwhelming force of robot obsession, our slaves are not alive& we become their sameness as they surround us the long stonestreetsinanimate,crows of executive secretaries alighting from subway 8:30 A.M.bloodflow in cells thru elevator arteries & stairway glands to typewriterconsciousnessCon Ed skyscraper clock-head gleaming gold-lit at sun dusk.1988 SONGCollected Poems 1947-1980, Harper Collins, 1984The weight of the worldis love.Under the burdenof solitude,Under the burdenof dissatisfactionthe weight,the weight we carryis love.Who can deny?In dreamsit touchesthe body,in thoughtconstructsa miracle,in imaginationanguishestill bornin human looks out of the heartburning with purity for the burden of lifeis love, but we carry the weightwearily,and so must restin the arms of loveat last,must rest in the armsof love.No restwithout love,no sleepwithout dreamsof love be mad or chillobsessed with angelsor machines,the final wishis lovecannot be bitter,cannot deny,cannot withholdif denied.the weight is too heavymust givefor no returnas thoughtis givenin solitudein all the excellenceit is excess.the warm bodiesshine togetherin the darkness,the hand movesto the centerof the flesh,the skin tremblesin happinessand the soul comesjoyful to the eyeyes, yesthats whatI wanted,I always wanted,to returnto the bodywhere I was bornSan Jose, 1954 WAKING IN NEW YORKCollected Poems 1947-1980, Harper Collins, New York, 1984II place my hand before my beard with aweand stare thru open-uncurtain windowrooftop rose-blue sky-thruwhich small dawn clouds riderattle against the pane.lying on a thick carpet matted floorat last in repose on pillows my kneesbent beneath brown himalayan blanket, softfingers atremble to pen, cramppressure diddling the page whiteSan Francisco notebookAnd here am on the sixth floor coldMarch 5th Street old building plasterapartment sin ruin, super he drunkwith baritone radio AM nose-sexOh New York, oh Now our birdflying past glass window Chirpour life together heresmoke of tenement chimney pots dawn hazepassing thru winds soar SirsHow shall we greet Thee this Springtime oh Lords?What gifts give ourselves, what police fearstop searched in late streetsRockefeller Frisk No-Knock break downmy iron white-painted door?Where shall I seek Law? In the StateIn offices of telepath bureaucracy?In my disease, my trembling, my cryecstatic song to myselfto my police my law my state mymany selfsAye, Self is Law and State PoliceKennedy struck down knew him SelfOswald, Ruby ourselvesTill we know our desires BlestWith babe issue,Resolve, acceptthis self flesh we bearIn underwear, Bathrobe, smoking cigarettesup all nightbrooding, solitary, setalone, tremorous leg & armapproaching the joy of AlonesRacked by that, arm laid to rest,head back wide-eyedMorning, my song to Who listens, tomyself as i amTo my fellows in this shape that buildingBrooklyn Bridge or Albany nameSalute to the self-gods onPennsylvania Avenue!May they have mercy on us all,May be just men not murderedNor the State murder moreThat all beggars be fed, alldying medicined, all lovelessTomorrow be lovedwell come & be balm.March 16, 1964 IIOn the roof cloudy sky fading sun rayselectric torches stopauto hornsThe towerswith time-hands giant pointinglate Dusk hour overclanky roofsTenement streets brick sagging cornicesbaby white kite fluttering against giantInsect face-gill Electric Millsmokestacked blue and fumes drift upRed messages, shining high floors,Empire State dotted with tiny windowslit, across the blocksof spire, steeple, golden topped utilityBuilding roofsfar likepyramids lit in jaggeddesert rocksThe giant the giant city awakein the fist warm breath of springtimeWaking voices, babble of Spanishstreet families, radio musicfloating under roofs, longhairedannouncer sincerity squawkingcigar voiceLight zips up phallos storiesbeneath red antennae needlingthru rooftop chimneys smogblack drift thru the blue airBridges curtained by uplit apartment wallsone small tower with a lighton its shoulder below the "moody, water-loving giants."The giant stacks burn thick graysmoke, Chrysler is lit with green,down Wall street islands of skyscraperblack jagged in Sabbath quietnessOh fathers, how I am alone in thisvast human wildernessHouses uplifted like hives offthe stone floor of the worldthe city too cast to know, toomyriad windowed to governfrom ancient halls"O edifice of gas!" Sun shaftsdescend on the highest buildingsstriped blocktop a red lightwinks buses hiss & rushgrinding, green lightsof north bridges;hum roar & Tarzansqueal, whistleswoops, hurrah!Is someone dying in all this stone building?Child poking its black head out of the womblike the pupil of an eye?Am I not breathing here frightenedand amazed?Where is my comfort, wheres heart-ease,Where are tears of joy?Where are the companions? Indeep homes in Stuyvesant townbehind the yellow-window wall?I fail, book failsa lassitude,a feartho Im aliveAnd gaze over the descendingNo!Peer in the inky beauty of the roofs.April 18, 1964 Copyright Allen Ginsberg, by permission