Reductionism (1&2)

[jporter]

Thanks, Juan, for posting that great Ginsberg poem (one of my favorites). I
confess, it was open on my lap when I mentioned it. The story about my trip
to the supermarket and hearing about Greenspan (puppet of "Super" markets)
on the radio was valid. Those experiences fused and rekindled my
remembrance of Ginsberg's poem. What I had forgotten about until I got back
home and looked it up was the reference to Garcia Lorca in the poem.
Naturally, I was reminded of P.'s intro to Farina's _Been Down so Long_ and
his description of their joint epiphany upon seeing a white horse on a
green hillside, and their mutual knowledge of Lorca's "horse on the
mountain." I wish I knew more about Garcia Lorca's work, including the work
that P. references.

Thanks, jody


>It seems Jody's memory is in better shape than it seems:
>
>     Allen Ginsberg's "A Supermarket in California"
>
>               What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for
>     I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache
>     self-conscious looking at the full moon.
>               In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went
>     into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations!
>               What peaches and what penumbras!  Whole families
>     shopping at night!  Aisles full of husbands!  Wives in the
>     avocados, babies in the tomatoes!--and you, Garcia Lorca, what
>     were you doing down by the watermelons?
>
>               I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber,
>     poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery
>     boys.
>               I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the
>     pork chops?  What price bananas?  Are you my Angel?
>               I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans
>     following you, and followed in my imagination by the store
>     detective.
>               We strode down the open corridors together in our
>     solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen
>     delicacy, and never passing the cashier.
>
>               Where are we going, Walt Whitman?  The doors close in
>     an hour.  Which way does your beard point tonight?
>               (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the
>     supermarket and feel absurd.)
>               Will we walk all night through solitary streets?  The
>     trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be
>     lonely.
>
>               Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love
>     past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage?
>               Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher,
>     what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and
>     you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat
>     disappear on the black waters of Lethe?
>
>     Berkeley, 1955
>
>Saludos, Juan.