Between two altered states
I wandered across a book by Allen Ginsberg
I am ignorant of poetry
Even of the great poets
Fate had shown me “Howl”
My politics had shown me “Hadda Be Playing on the Jukebox”
Without money
I attained the poem
Carefully ripping the page
It came slow
Like climax
It came loud
Like climax
Ginsberg visits me in my dreams
He knows I get it
I get that some suit profits of his soul
I get that Ginsberg’s wallet isn’t in his grave
I get that poetry is meant to be shared — freely.
I get that poets need money
I get that dead poets don’t prophet
Unless you get it
(And so I got it)
I carry his poem with me like a Bible
And pray that you’ll get it