"The Lion For Real"

can we go back to allen ginsberg for a minute? check this out.

The Lion For Real by Allen Ginsberg

"Soyez muette pour moi, Idole contemplative..."

I came home and found a lion in my living room
Rushed out on the fire escape screaming Lion! Lion!
Two stenographers pulled their brunette hair and banged the window shut
I hurried home to Patterson and stayed two days

Called up old Reichian analyst
who'd kicked me out of therapy for smoking marijuana
'It's happened' I panted 'There's a Lion in my living room'
'I'm afraid any discussion would have no value' he hung up

I went to my old boyfriend we got drunk with his girlfriend
I kissed him and announced I had a lion with a mad gleam in my eye
We wound up fighting on the floor I bit his eyebrow he kicked me out
I ended up masturbating in his jeep parked in the street moaning 'Lion.'

Found Joey my novelist friend and roared at him 'Lion!'
He looked at me interested and read me his spontaneous ignu high poetries
I listened for lions all I heard was Elephant Tiglon Hippogriff Unicorn
Ants
But figured he really understood me when we made it in Ignaz Wisdom's
bathroom.

But next day he sent me a leaf from his Smoky Mountain retreat
'I love you little Bo-Bo with your delicate golden lions
But there being no Self and No Bars therefore the Zoo of your dear Father
hath no lion
You said your mother was mad don't expect me to produce the Monster for
your Bridegroom.'

Confused dazed and exalted bethought me of real lion starved in his stink
in Harlem
Opened the door the room was filled with the bomb blast of his anger
He roaring hungrily at the plaster walls but nobody could hear outside
thru the window
My eye caught the edge of the red neighbor apartment building standing in
deafening stillness
We gazed at each other his implacable yellow eye in the red halo of fur
Waxed rheumy on my own but he stopped roaring and bared a fang
greeting.
I turned my back and cooked broccoli for supper on an iron gas stove
boilt water and took a hot bath in the old tup under the sink board.

He didn't eat me, tho I regretted him starving in my presence.
Next week he wasted away a sick rug full of bones wheaten hair falling out
enraged and reddening eye as he lay aching huge hairy head on his paws
by the egg-crate bookcase filled up with thin volumes of Plato, & Buddha.

Sat by his side every night averting my eyes from his hungry motheaten
face
stopped eating myself he got weaker and roared at night while I had
nightmares
Eaten by lion in bookstore on Cosmic Campus, a lion myself starved by
Professor Kandisky, dying in a lion's flophouse circus,
I woke up mornings the lion still added dying on the floor--'Terrible
Presence!'I cried 'Eat me or die!'

It got up that afternoon--walked to the door with its paw on the south wall to
steady its trembling body
Let out a soul-rending creak from the bottomless roof of his mouth
thundering from my floor to heaven heavier than a volcano at night in
Mexico
Pushed the door open and said in a gravelly voice "Not this time Baby--
but I will be back again."

Lion that eats my mind now for a decade knowing only your hunger
Not the bliss of your satisfaction O roar of the universe how am I chosen
In this life I have heard your promise I am ready to die I have served
Your starved and ancient Presence O Lord I wait in my room at your
Mercy.

Paris, March 1958

****

ok, i am going west. we're going to madison, and then vancouver and then san juan islands and then spokane and then sandpoint and then boise and then up into the sawtooths and we are leaving tomorrow in a sporty red car (i hope my window works, it wasn't working tonight. that might be not so awesome) and we're packing lots of snacks for the car and treats for our handsome dog and waking up at the crack of ridiculous tomorrow morning. and i will not be back until august 24th. so that means, i will have sketchy internet access and you will probably get a random email or text message about wolves and fishing, the gorgeousness of it all and of course, trees. the text message will be like this: "T-R-E-E-S A-R-E B-A-N-A-N-A-S"

i stood out in the thunderstorms the other night, starting the lathe of heaven and i wanted to say to my friend, like ginsberg said to dylan: "You're the king, but you haven't found your kingdom... i'm presenting you. It's about time. This country has been asleep. It's time it woke up."

what else. i was at rite aid today getting my 'scripts refilled and i was two day too early and almost had a meltdown. all the pharmicist said really was you're too early. the insurance won't pay for it. me: oh my god are you for real and was about to get all wound up with my voice squeaky and then she was all, well you can still get it it's only $40 instead of whatever, but not covered. i was like, oh ok, wow that's kind of reasonable. i cannot imagine what these people have to deal with, they are so good at being impassive. absolutely nothing phases them. not even an eyebrow shot up. and their voices are mild and relaxing. i bet i could fill scripts for prozac, clonoprin which is a benzo, maybe throw in some xanax and some epilepsy medication just for the hell of it and maybe some viagra and they would be all, "whatever". they must get training. she dealt with my slight and growing hysteria and capitulation to their jedi mind trick very well. she did say after i paid, "well now you'll have a good trip." no inflection. none. like, yes, we are the only rite aid in the entire united states. they don't exist anywhere else and we just averted a severe crisis. i still get giggly when i pass the condom section or i see someone buying them on line. "you're going to have sex!" i say to myself.

i'm really excited because malcolm loves it more than we do out there, the last time we were there with him for a long period of time in the summer, on the last day, we were all packed and ready to get into the car and malcolm was just sitting on the porch. he wouldn't come. "je refuse" said malcolm, "i said, good day".

i was just talking to c. on the phone and she has this thing where she has to ask about the geophysical location all the time "where am i?" so she can feel safe. she was really cute in the car to fire island that one weekend. "where are we?" "that's the world fairgrounds" and she wouldn't ask for awhile. then she would ask again. "now we're past kennedy". she still had no idea, but she felt better. i can relate to that so completely. it makes no sense, actually, compulsively situating oneself, i have to have this narrative in my head, and there's water over there and i can't get lost.

i love the poem up above, there. the last two stanzas make me shiver with pleasure. it wouldn't have two or three days ago. but now it does.

i'm going to leave you with some advice, and i will take it too. it's good advice.

"if anyone goes batshit in the car play "mountains" by prince and everyone will dance and calm down"

talk soon.

xo