Death & Fame by Allen Ginsberg

When I die
I don’t care what happens
to me
throw my body in
the air ashy
scatter
them along
the east
bury me in B’Nai Israel Cemetary
it’s all the same
to
me
let them remember
me
for being
someone
who tried
to do something
I ate Japanese
food
listened
to their music
trying not to be rude
talking
all night with Kerouac
and Cassady
who would have
thought
now
you’d be reading
my poetry

I am Ginsberg
I go on and on
is it funny or just
queer
don’t worry
about the soar
feeling
in your heart
or plexus-solar
i prick
the right
hit
i studied
poetry inside
the classes
walking up
flat
not paying taxes

i grudge
begrudingly
the grunge bands
of age-old rock
classical guitar
and funk

folksingers
tamborines
kazoo

remember
the mystic Italian
and Indian
romantic
realistic
painters
and oil water-escapers

its all just
fodder
for the modest
mannered
the dish washers
the studio
guests
spending weeks
in Budapest

the readers by the thousands
say Kadish
for me
in Nevada City

with the newspaper
magazines
blowing
my mind
snotty
deaf and dumb
bardistry
poe-tasting
beatnick
and
dead-to-the-world
I am
History
let
me unfurl