Allen Ginsberg, 1973

[TranquillityBase]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the streets of Calcutta,
and he’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium.
At intermission he moved into the audience
wandering the aisles of the auditorium
and I sought him out, waiting in terror
to intercept him.  Finally he appeared before me,
it was just the two of us, face to face.
Starry eyed, I said nothing, just stared into his eyes.
“Did you sing?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I tried” I said and he smiled.
“That’s all we can ask” and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was soft as a flower.

Allen Ginsberg, 1973

 

He was wearing Indian clothes

like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta.

He’d just led us in singing a Blake song

while he played his harmonium,

was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission.

His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair

appeared before me, “Did you sing?”

I said “I tried” and he smiled

“that’s all we can ask” he said

and moved on, first taking my hand.

His was as soft as a flower.

[Tiger the Lion]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta. the streets of Calcutta maybe?
He’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium,
was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission. 
His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair
appeared before me, “Did you sing?”
I said “I tried” and he smiled
“that’s all we can ask” he said
and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was as soft as a flower. Love this last line but think it's even stronger without the first "as"

Love this. If it's a true story, I'm more than a little envious. A few minor tweaks to consider.

[TranquillityBase]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973

 

He was wearing Indian clothes

like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta. the streets of Calcutta maybe?

He’d just led us in singing a Blake song

while he played his harmonium,

was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission. 

His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair

appeared before me, “Did you sing?”

I said “I tried” and he smiled

“that’s all we can ask” he said

and moved on, first taking my hand.

His was as soft as a flower. Love this last line but think it's even stronger without the first "as"

Love this. If it's a true story, I'm more than a little envious. A few minor tweaks to consider.

Tiger,

Thanks for the read and critique.  It is a true story.  I was too tongue tied to actually say something intelligent to him when I had the chance.

For a bit of fun, go to minute 17:31 of this YouTube to watch Ginsberg serenade William F. Buckley Jr. with a reading of Wales Visitation:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vBpoZBhvBa4&t=1712s

TqB

[brynmawr1]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta.
He’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium,
was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission.       I like 'at intermission' but that's me.
His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair
appeared before me, “Did you sing?”
I said “I tried” and he smiled     consider reversing the 'I said' 'I tried'  I found who was speaking confusing for awhile coming from the previous line
“that’s all we can ask” he said
and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was as soft as a flower.

Hi TqB,
I agree with Tiger's suggestions and added one of my own as shown above.  I watched the WFB interview you suggested.  It was fascinating.  I can;t imagine people today engaging in such a nuanced broad discussion these days.  There was no 'gotcha' moments or interruption.  refreshing.
Anyway, this is a very nice piece, as usual.
Thanks for the read,
bryn

[TranquillityBase]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta.
He’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium,
was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission.       I like 'at intermission' but that's me.
His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair
appeared before me, “Did you sing?”
I said “I tried” and he smiled     consider reversing the 'I said' 'I tried'  I found who was speaking confusing for awhile coming from the previous line
“that’s all we can ask” he said
and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was as soft as a flower.

Hi TqB,
I agree with Tiger's suggestions and added one of my own as shown above.  I watched the WFB interview you suggested.  It was fascinating.  I can;t imagine people today engaging in such a nuanced broad discussion these days.  There was no 'gotcha' moments or interruption.  refreshing.
Anyway, this is a very nice piece, as usual.
Thanks for the read,
bryn

Thanks Bryn,

I've edited it, including both your and Tiger's notes but also tried to make the experience more true to memory.  It still reads more like prose to me, but maybe I'll come back to it at some point and can turn it into a real poem.

Yes, the interview is a nice glimpse of Ginsberg.  Such a joyous human being.

TqB

[brynmawr1]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta.
He’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium,
was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission.       I like 'at intermission' but that's me.
His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair
appeared before me, “Did you sing?”
I said “I tried” and he smiled     consider reversing the 'I said' 'I tried'  I found who was speaking confusing for awhile coming from the previous line
“that’s all we can ask” he said
and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was as soft as a flower.

Hi TqB,
I agree with Tiger's suggestions and added one of my own as shown above.  I watched the WFB interview you suggested.  It was fascinating.  I can;t imagine people today engaging in such a nuanced broad discussion these days.  There was no 'gotcha' moments or interruption.  refreshing.
Anyway, this is a very nice piece, as usual.
Thanks for the read,
bryn

Thanks Bryn,

I've edited it, including both your and Tiger's notes but also tried to make the experience more true to memory.  It still reads more like prose to me, but maybe I'll come back to it at some point and can turn it into a real poem.

Yes, the interview is a nice glimpse of Ginsberg.  Such a joyous human being.

TqB

I think the original with the few tweaks was quite poetic.  Your expanded version I wouldn't say is prose but is more narrative than lyrical, a quality of your original.  I think the original with the minor modification is sufficient but if you have more to say I look forward to it.
bryn

[Poetry In Motion]

Very poetic and beautiful at the same time! Impressive. Nothing more to say.

[busker]

Allen Ginsberg, 1973
 
He was wearing Indian clothes
like he’d just stepped off the streets of Calcutta,
and he’d just led us in singing a Blake song
while he played his harmonium.
At intermission he moved into the audience
wandering the aisles of the auditorium
and I sought him out, waiting in terror
to intercept him.  Finally he appeared before me,
it was just the two of us, face to face.
Starry eyed, I said nothing, just stared into his eyes.
“Did you sing?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“I tried” I said and he smiled.
“That’s all we can ask” and moved on, first taking my hand.
His was soft as a flower.

Allen Ginsberg, 1973

 

He was wearing Indian clothes

like he’d just stepped off the street from Calcutta.

He’d just led us in singing a Blake song

while he played his harmonium,

was wandering the aisles of the auditorium in intermission.

His balding bearded head haloed in long black hair

appeared before me, “Did you sing?”

I said “I tried” and he smiled

“that’s all we can ask” he said

and moved on, first taking my hand.

His was as soft as a flower.

I don’t associate Ginsberg with soft hands or playing a harmonium. George Harrison, maybe? But I never met these guys in person, they were before my time.
It’s a great little vignette.
I preferred “off the street from Calcutta”. The whole  “off the streets of XYZ” sounds cliched and tired, almost implying that all the streets in any given city are interchangeable, and by implication, carry the same sort of generic individual.

[Mark A Becker]

Hey Tim-

Not to be too crabby, but this reads more like a journal entry than a poem.
I know that you have the chops to inject this with some of that original TqB life.
Ginsberg would appreciate that...

Mark

[TranquillityBase]

Hey Tim-

Not to be too crabby, but this reads more like a journal entry than a poem.
I know that you have the chops to inject this with some of that original TqB life.
Ginsberg would appreciate that...

Mark

Yes, this one is prosaic.  It may be this just has to remain a happy memory and not a poem.

I went home after the reading and stayed up all night writing poetry by candlelight.  Maybe that should be the poem.

[rowens]

I never liked Allen Ginsberg.

His charm was speaking from the maddeningmotherside of Judaism.

He spoke of amerika and lewdaism with the tender the side of the mother, mad, the man with the flaming phallus who wanted to tip swords and not inflict wounds.

But the crouching asshole is just as much the glad Sarah who laughs, not wanting the gift of the seed of Generations, and neurotically not allowed to say so, with any virile seriousness, until it's psychotically too late.

The one-eyed moloch of the homosexual  fity cent piece is genderless and

the playful, harmless extraverted cartwheels   play the say harmonic jew harp for the crowd as the crowd does whether the crowds crowd or not.


The mother madness is the only thing Allen Ginsberg ever said.

And, his was just a kinder, gentler machinegun way of saying It



for all his glory, which is the high we get
sometimes