I read this poem Tuesday night, Sept 11th 2001 at Club Passim in Harvard Square, Cambridge, MA...

email Chris Yeager

 
A hard day at the office...
Reuters

....all movement stops
& I walk in the timeless sadness of existence,
tenderness flowing through the buildings,
my fingertips touching reality's face,
my own face streaked with tears in the mirror
of some window, at dusk--
where I have no desire
for bonbons, -- or to own the dresses or Japanese
lampshades of intellection

Confused by the spectacle around me,
Man struggling up the street
with packages, newspapers,
ties, beautiful suits
toward his desire
Man, woman, streaming over the pavements
red lights clocking hurried watches &
movements at the curb--

And all these streets leading
so crosswise, honking, lengthily,
by avenues
stalked by high buildings or crusted into slums
thru such halting traffic
screaming cars and engines
so painfully to this
countryside, this graveyard
this stillness
on deathbed or mountain
once seen
never regained or desired
in the mind to come
where all Manhattan that I've seen must disappear

My Sad Self                                         

Allen Ginsburg                       1963

Sometimes when my eyes are red
I go up on top of the RCA building
and gaze at my world, Manhattan-
my buildings, streets, I've done feats in,
lofts, beds, coldwater flats
-On Fifth Ave below which I also bear in mind,
its ant cars, little yellow taxis, men
walking the size of specks of wool--
Panorama of the bridges, sunrise over Brooklyn machine,
sun go down over new jersey where i was born
& Paterson where I played with ants--
my later loves on 15th Street,
my greater loves of Lower East Side,
my once fabulous amours in the Bronx
faraway--

paths crossing in these hidden streets,
my history summed up, my absences,
and ecstasies in Harlem--
-sun shining down on all I own
in one eyeblink to the horizon
in my last eternity----
matter is water

Sad,
I take the elevator and go
down, pondering,
and walk on the pavements staring into all man's
plateglass, faces
questioning after who loves,
and stop, bemused
in front of automobile shopwindow
standing lost in calm thought,
traffic moving up and down 5th Avenue blocks
behind me
waiting for a moment when.......
Time to go home and cook supper & listen to
the romantic war news on the radio