Allen Ginsberg... where are we going now?
I follow your footsteps down the beaten path, it's become a deserted and lonely place...
In my desperation to find my father, I've strided through nostalgic hallways,
looking... searching... are you my hero? Will you be my motivation tonight?
In my sojourn, the statues have come alive. Full rows of females statues covering
themselves with stonehenge arms,
men exposed for the whole world to see...
the universe's own Chelsea Girls... Andy Warhol, what have you done?
I watched you, Allen Ginsberg, inebreated, angry old man... calling your army to armament,
crying out in indignation!
I longed to be in the center of that crowd, calling out to you, one of the herd...
And you held my hand as we strolled through these sixty halls of renaissance,
Hero, why are we all in this boat together and yet miles apart?
Where does your guidance take us?
You guide me along as a father guides his child,
unwrapping the mysteries of the absurd from their blanket of night quilt and silver stars...
I find myself musing, leader of the golden age...
was this the world you wished for?
Were these the dreams you held?
Author notes
It's my response to Ginsberg's "A Supermarket In California" ... Ginsberg is my favorite poet, by far.
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