Insomnia On Duke Ellington Boulevard Poem by Ira Cohen

July 14, Breakfast w/myself at the Olympia Diner, 106th & B'way

Fell asleep around 4 AM
w/ the TV on
Van Heflin & Barbara Stanwyck
enter my disturbed sleep
Sometimes the only way out
is to die, but happily
someone else escapes,
takes to the road, goes on
traveling.
I'm up at seven, go to the post office.,
send two Cuban alligators
to Brussels,
the read Gabriel's column in NEWSDAY
about the real meaning of the closet,
feel nauseous, order a hardboiled egg
which come w/out a shell
mashed in a cup
Is my heart, too, yearning
for its dying hour?
Please bring me one order
of cool snow!

*

If I could remember just a fraction
of what I said on the telephone
If he could take his clothes off
and sit on the banks of the Ganga
If she could see the profile of Caliban
in the smoke over the oilfieds
If we could just take off & go to Madagascar
If they would stop killing each other
and wake up tomorrow morning
w/ a new vision
I would stick my head in a printing press
and you could read tomorrow's paper today:

EXTRA! EXTRA!
Read all about it
Poets' brains prove to be useful!

P.S. Sometimes when I pick up my pen
it leaks gold all over the tablecloth.