Thoughts.
Today in Contemporary poetry, we discussed “A Supermarket in California” by Allen Ginsberg. Here you have it:
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
Every few weeks we have a really good discussion in that class, the kind of discussion that goes far past poetry and touches on what the world needs. I have no idea how the students in my class got this out of the poem, but they said it was talking about the loneliness of America. I don’t know how they got it, but I like it. My professor mentioned how Mother Teresa trained people to work with the poor not only in India but also in America. My professor said that when asked, people who had worked both places preferred India because the loneliness in the USA is crushing. That really struck me. I definitely agree. It is so easy to be lonely here. For all our technology, where is the community? You can go a whole day (a lot longer, actually) and never personally talk to anyone, never make eye contact, never have human touch.
Someone mentioned that at a supermarket you don’t have to search for anything. You don’t have to make the food yourself. You find things where they don’t belong. She gave the example of buying a mango from a supermarket from a place where mangos don’t exist. It’s not how it should be, and life is boring with everything at your fingertips.
Where do we go for fulfillment?
What do we do about the increasing loneliness?
These things, they’re not what we want or need, but it’s what society has taught us we need/want.
Someone brought up how the big publishing companies don’t publish the things people need to read. They publish books from pop artists and celebrities, because it makes money.
That makes me want to ask people what they like about money best.
My professor said that many writers have said in one way or another, that you can’t be part of the culture and write about the culture. You have to step outside of it.
Then someone said America is schizophrenic.
And then I started writing. J It’s a pep talk to myself. J
We want someone to tell, real. meaningful, but society has trained us not to tell, not to ask for what we need, not to make community. It has taught us we’re not normal when we feel those needs , but that’s what we need. Some of us have got to step outside of the culture and feel the hostility and offer help, hope, bring the truth, bring community, even if we only reach one person. Then there will be two of us. Except that I know there are more. Then we can start fixing. Yeah, we’ll never fix it completely. Only J can do that. But if the two of us go at it maybe we can reach another. One at a time. Love that speaks up, stand us, sits down with you at lunch. That one person’s life is totally worth it. I’m not falsely optimistic. I know the world is going to get worse. But the people’s lives are still worth it. Still worth trying. If we can get to one person. Anyway, it makes me feel better to let it out. I’d go mad if I couldn’t speak it. I want to at least offer the things they ache for. At least offer hope. They don’t have to take it. But I believe we must offer it.
