Kaddish for Allen Ginsberg's 27th DeathDay

5/30      
       
Twenty-seven years now, Allen,      
since I last saw you in Altus, Arkansas,      
waltzing with Garcia Lorca down the aisles      
amongst the watermelons    
of the Circle M convenience store,      
watching you glance slyly at    
old Walt Whitman ogling      
the check-out boy      
at the counter,      
apple-cheeked and angel-haired      
how did you know he was      
Caravaggio's Cecco,      
reborn just to grin      
winsomely at you      
as the Bradford Pears began      
dropping their white hankies      
to the ground      
and Persephone rose once again      
from the dead      
surprised to see you still here,      
with lilacs springing      
from your balding head.      
Yet, old friend,      
you are still as young      
and insolent and full of love      
as then, when I sat at your feet      
in Lawrence, Kansas,      
1966 and listened to you      
rage against broken piano machines      
rusting in eternity      
with Peter Orlovsky shaking      
his long hair      
and the highway still there      
O Allen Ginsberg      
the hare krishna mantra still there      
O Allen Ginsberg      
your harmonium gathering dust      
still playable  
O Allen Ginsberg     
and i join you      
in burning my draft card      
in solemn protest of them      
never giving you the      
Pulitzer      
and allowing you        
to die in poverty    
yet you, too,    
are still there    
and today I read    
"Howl" all the way through    
footnote and everything    
and it took me    
25 minutes and 41 seconds    
and you were with me    
all that time    
wheezing on the harmonium    
and decrying against    
the genocide in Gaza    
with a to-do list    
of outrageousness    
which I found sweet    
and very delicious.