I Watch Ginsberg Dying

I watch Ginsberg dying

on the 14inch portable –

sixty-nine with an hour left,

friends and collaborators

chanting over his bed,

Buddhists sending him,

welcoming him

to his new life.

I watch Ginsberg dying

a decade later -

grainy black and white,

muffled mono,

an excerpt from ‘Howl’

in the wrong voice…

not the voice of poetry…

not the voice of death.

I watch Ginsberg dying,

then still –

‘Howl’ fading;

someone speaks,

talking head appears

reading ‘Kaddish’,

the credits roll…

a final breath.

28.05.07