Last nite I dreamed of T.S. Eliot <br />welcoming me to the land of dream <br />Sofas couches fog in England <br />Tea in his digs Chelsea rainbows <br />curtains on his windows, fog seeping in <br />the chimney but a nice warm house <br />and an incredibly sweet hooknosed <br />Eliot he loved me, put me up, <br />gave me a couch to sleep on, <br />conversed kindly, took me serious <br />asked my opinion on Mayakovsky <br />I read him Corso Creeley Kerouac <br />advised Burroughs Olson Huncke <br />the bearded lady in the Zoo, the <br />intelligent puma in Mexico City <br />6 chorus boys from Zanzibar <br />who chanted in wornout polygot <br />Swahili, and the rippling rythyms <br />of Ma Rainey and Vachel Lindsay. <br />On the Isle of the Queen <br />we had a long evening's conversation <br />Then he tucked me in my long <br />red underwear under a silken <br />blanket by the fire on the sofa <br />gave me English Hottie <br />and went off sadly to his bed, <br />Saying ah Ginsberg I am glad <br />to have met a fine young man like you. <br />At last, I woke ashamed of myself. <br />Is he that good and kind? Am I that great? <br />What's my motive dreaming his <br />manna? What English Department <br />would that impress? What failure <br />to be perfect prophet's made up here? <br />I dream of my kindness to T.S. Eliot <br />wanting to be a historical poet <br />and share in his finance of Imagery- <br />overambitious dream of eccentric boy. <br />God forbid my evil dreams come true. <br />Last nite I dreamed of Allen Ginsberg. <br />T.S. Eliot would've been ashamed of me.<br /><br />Allen Ginsberg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/feb-29-1958/
