"Cleveland, The Flats" by Allen Ginsberg

To D. A. Levy

Into the flats, through Cleveland's
Steeple trees illuminated
Lake Bridge Light college cars speed round white lines
thru Green Lights, past downtown's pale Hotels
Triple towers smokestacked steaming in blue nite
buildings in water, the shimmer of that
factory in the blackness
a little tinkle RR engine bell
See the orange bedroom shack
under the viaduct
criscrossed with 1930s raindrops Tragedies
extrapolating railroads overhead --
Asphalt road bumps --
that blue flame burning? Industry!
Bom! Bom! Mahadev! Microphone Icecream!
Battle Conditions! Come in Towers!
Buster Keaton died today, folksongs in the iron smell
of Republic Steel, hish -- !
American children crossing Jones Laughlin's yellow
bridge saying o how
Beautiful, and Work ye Tarriers Work
in the fiery hill on the Press,
under black smoke --
Oh yes look, the lake mill lights --
Like an organpipe that smokestack
Hart Crane died under --
Black Tank Skeleton lifted over railroads' orange lamps,
illustrious robots stretched with wires,
smoking organpipes of God in the Cleveland Flats
Open hearth furnaces light up the sky,
all night gas station
Steelton downhill, that smell What is it?
The guys wander up & down their gas refining Cracker
climbing ladders in white light --
Butane smells -- Creosote --
"Looka that gas-cloud we just passed thru -- "
Twin heavy smokestacks there --
Space age children wandering like lost orphans
thru the landscape filled with iron --
their grandfathers sweated over forges!
now all they know is all them rockets they see silvery
Quivering on Television --
I don't know any more.
Om Muni Muni Mahamuni Sakyamunaye Svaha
Gate Gate Paragate Parasamgate Bodhi Svaha

June 1966


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