My Alba, by Allen Ginsberg

4 March 2012

I picked up Ginsbergy’s Reality Sandwiches in Maelstrom this week. I opened it, and straight away, something punchy. But I must make a disclosure: I was besuited when I bought it, strolling back from a conference in the European quarter, my own beat credentials in tatters.


Now that I’ve wasted
five years in Manhattan
life decaying
talent a blank

talking disconnected
patient and mental
sliderule and number
machine on a desk

autographed triplicate
synopis and taxes
obedient prompt
poorly paid

stayed on the market
youth of my twenties
fainted in offices
wept on typewriters

deceived multitudes
in vast conspiracies
deodorant battleships
serious business industry

every six weeks whoever
drank my blood bank
innocent evil now
part of my system

five years unhappy labor
22 to 27 working
not a dime in the bank
to show for it anyway

dawn breaks it’s only the sun
the East smokes O my bedroom
I am damned to Hell what
alarmclock is ringing

NY 1953

[Ripped from; they state the date of publication rather than the date of composition.]


One Response to “My Alba, by Allen Ginsberg”

  1. dianajhale Says:

    Great – reminded me I picked up a book on his journals and early unpublished poems which I buried somewhere!

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