by Sarah Wilkes
What happens when a poet dies? Obituaries and tributes all say, "his works live on," or some cliche like that, but what happens to that mind that created all those works? Where does it really go? As a long-time appreciator of Allen Ginsberg, I never imagined him ever dying, but evidently he did, on April 5, 1997.
The first book of poetry I ever read by Ginsberg was Reality Sandwiches (City Lights Books 1963). I can’t remember when I got it, but it’s not very old; I’m not that old a reader to begin with. In it is my favorite acknowledgment by a writer of his craft:
"Blessed be the Muses for their descent, dancing round my desk, crowning my balding head with Laurel."
This untitled piece, cut into four lines and wedged in the book between two frantic poems recalling William Burroughs’ slain wife, lays out a perfect, simple prayer for all writers, artists, and other, uncategorizable creators everywhere to recite before and after creating-bald head or not.
After learning of his death, and reading his obituary in The Hartford Courant, I felt compelled to run upstairs in Olin Library and find and recite the Kaddish. Not Ginsberg’s "Kaddish," his 1960 eulogy to his mother Naomi, but the original Kaddish, the Hebrew/Aramaic prayer of mourning.
Yitgadal v’yitkadash sh’meh raba...
The tune I learned in Jewish Sunday School years ago runs through my head as I think of Ginsberg’s own prayers. I’m reading the Kaddish out of The Second Jewish Catalog (Sharon and Michael Strassfeld, editors; Jewish Publication Society of America, 1976), the same book which, on page 96, says that homosexuality is "a violation of the Torah’s concept of sexual purpose and sexual functions, not unlike the modern biological notion that years of evolution have placed the sexual organs in a heterosexual position-evidence, we are told, that woman is programed for procreation, not for homosexuality." What would Allen Ginsberg, who had been out of the closet for over 40 years, have said to this?!? Allen Ginsberg: a gay, Jewish, Buddhist, pacifist, activist, male Beat poet—a treasure chest of adjectives!! I’ve often thought of Ginsberg as one of modern Jewry’s greatest living treasures; evidently the editors of the Jewish Catalogs disagree, as there is no mention of him in any of the three "definitive" catalogs on Jewish faith and culture, yet there is that article quoted above which denies, or at least diminishes, through (I believe) misplaced religious priorities, one of the many attributes of Ginsberg that color him.
Yitbarar v’yishtabach, v’yitpaar, v’yitroman, v’yithadar, v’yitaleh v’yithalal sh’meh dekudishah...
My favorite part of the Kaddish to recite; all those fricative "v’yits" heaping praises on the God whose glory shines beyond all prayers and hymns (and poems?... I dunno). There is not one mention of death in the mourner’s Kaddish. Instead, we say: "May there be abundant peace from heaven, and a good life, for us and for all Israel; and say: Amen." Let’s hope so. Meanwhile, I say: May there be abundant peace on the balding head of Allen Ginsberg, who had a good life, blessing us and all Israel (and all of Ginsberg’s America, and the global nation of poetry) with his abundant, beautiful works and deeds. And blessed be the muses who crowned his head with laurel; and I say: Amen. There will be no other, who so moved the thinkers and do-ers as he did, leaving his many marks on American culture of the 20th century for all in the future to look back on and enjoy, admire, and become inspired by. Thank you, Allen Ginsberg.
Where is Allen Ginsberg’s mind? On my shelf, where I’ve always seen it. I guess the cliche was right. Y’sheh shalom bimromayn, hu ya’aseh shalom aleinu v’al kol Yisrael, v’imru: Amen.