pentru că marţi o să-i văd pe philip glass şi patti smith cum îi cântă o odă lui ginsberg, azi îl citim pe ginsberg cum îi cântă o odă ratării.
Ode to Failure
Many prophets have failed, their voices silent
ghost-shouts in basements nobody heard their dusty laughter in family attics
nor glanced at them on park benches weeping with relief under the empty sky
Walt Whitman viva'd local losers- courage to Fat Ladies in the Freak Show!
nervous prisoners whose moustached lips dripped sweat on chow lines-
Mayakovsky cried, Then die! my verse, die like the workers' rank & file fusilladed in Petersburg!
Prospero in Shakespeare's latest statement burned his Power books & plummeted his magic wand to the bottom of dragon seas
Alaxander the Great failed to find more worlds to conquer!
O Failure I chant your terrifying name, accept me your 54 year old Prophet epicking Eternal Flop! I join your Pantheon of mortal bards, I hasten this ode with high blood pressure
rushing to the top of my skull as if I wouldn't last another minute, Like the Dying Gaul! to
You, Lord of Blind Renoir, deaf Beethoven, armless Venus de Milo, headless Winged Victory!
I failed to sleep with every bearded rosy-cheeked boy I jacked off over
My tirades destroyed no Intellectual Unions of KGB & CIA in turtlenecks & underpants, their woolen suits & tweeds
I never dissolved Plutonium or dismanted the nuclear Bomb before my skull lost hair
I have not yet stopped the Armies of entire Mankind in their march toward World War III
I never got to Heaven, Nirvana, X, Whatchamacallit, I never left Earth,
I never really communicated the delicacy of these thoughts to the clapper in the back row
I never learned to die.
Boulder, March 7/October 10, 1980
(din collected poems, 1947-1980, penguin books, am uitat să notez anu)
aici glass vorbeşte despre allen şi patti. mi se taie răsuflarea de pe-acu: