Daydreams for Ginsberg
I lie on my back at midnight
hearing the marvelous strange chime
of the clocks, and know it’s mid—
night and in that instant the whole
world swims into sight for me
in the form of beautiful swarm—
ing m u t t a worlds—
everything is happening, shining
Buhudda—lands,
bhuti
blazing in faith, I know I’m
forever right & all’s I got to
do (as I hear the ordinary
extant voices of ladies talking
in some kitchen at midnight
oilcloth cups of cocoa
cardore to mump the
rinnegain in his
darlin drain—) i will write
it, all the talk of the world
everywhere in this morning, leav—
ing open parentheses sections
for my own accompanying inner
thoughts—with roars of me
all brain—all world
roaring—vibrating—I put
it down, swiftly, 1,000 words
(of pages) compressed into one second
of time—I’ll be long
robed & long gold haired in
the famous Greek afternoon
of some Greek City
Fame Immortal & they’ll
have to find me where they find
the t h n u p f t of my
shroud bags flying
flag yagging Lucien
Midnight back in their
mouths—Gore Vidal’ll
be amazed, annoyed—
my words’ll be writ in gold
& preserved in libraries like
Finnegans Wake & Visions of Neal
