Allen Ginsberg | drycrikjournal

Hope rises from dark despair,
the jagged edge of acrimony
hurriedly honed in fear—
 
a pause to lay swords down,
for the blood to crust
and contemplate alternatives.
 
Are we conscripted warriors
for opposing forces,
or free to reclaim our sanity,
 
to nurture and heal
with the real work
the sun awaits?
 
 
            Well, while I’m, here I’ll do the work—
            And what’s the work?
            To ease the pain of living.
            Everything else, drunken dumbshow.
                        - Allen Ginsberg (“Memory Gardens”)

                                        and what’s the work?
                                                            To ease the pain of living.
                                        Everything else, drunken
                                                            dumbshow.
                                                                      – Allen Ginsberg

I have no appetite for news, yet addicted
to reason less obvious
than the Emperor’s latest haberdashery.

Coffee conversation stops
to the quiet glide of a Cooper’s Hawk
beneath the roof overhead, limp legs

dangling, quail warm before breakfast.
She has chosen the four of us
to interrupt, to remind of naked grace

in a profane world—to ease the taloned
hold of the drunken dumbshow
before we hay the cows

and we feel blessed
for prolonged moments of wonder unwound
to remember who we are.

‘A WARNING TO MY READERS’