For Papa Ginsberg

by Dan Vera

You speak of Whitman?
Well I speak of you Ginsberg.
I dream with you tonight
here upon my Denver bed,
Jewish Buddhist gay boy guru you.
You, the bearded element unnamed,
unchained in this country dying the death of forty years.
You speak of grocery boys
and it remains the same
in my lifetime too.
You speak of carnal wanderlust
and I speak of wandering naming.
Do not look for America
for you have found her
in your lettered bosum.
I seek country's form
in my own passage.
I, the twisted Cuban
boy who looks for his
own America tonight.

And I find her roots in your falling hair.

© 1996 Dan Vera

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