H e a r t   S o n s   &   H e a r t   D a u g h t e r s   of   A l l e n   G i n s b e r g

N a p a l m   H e a l t h   S p a :   R e p o r t   2 0 1 4 :   A r c h i v e s   E d i t i o n






I, like a lunatic


  to Zhenya Yevtushenko

written a few weeks after 9-11-2001


I, like a lunatic,

have continued to talk to you

even though we parted ways

after too many vodkas

over  breakfast

at the Plaza Hotel

too many years ago.


Because you are who you are,

your mouth

always opening

to release new humor and hope,

will you speak to me again

as I reach for you

through labyrinths of shock

in this uncertain glow

of unannounced catastrophe?


Will you answer me

in your deep Russian accent

through your dusty, blue eyes,

with your wisdom

of time

my questions…


Where does one put the ruins

of a day?

Where does one put her tears

for a nation?

When does one learn to breathe



I, like a lunatic,

have not slept in weeks

and despite the years

long to speak with you,

of all the people that I’ve

said goodbye to

on a New York street corner.



[Originally published in NHS 2006, http://www.poetspath.com/napalm/nhs06/Jones.htm.]