Beat Postcard #6: Ginsberg's Gabriel Horns

Allen Ginsberg, San Francisco 1956
Typing manuscripts in Peter Orlovsky's apartment on Petrero Hill

I use the typewriter as my pillow

Yes, my love. After days of raveging yourself with rains and screaming, you came only to me. Just out of reach, you fell. I lifted onl your head. Under it - God.

I dreamt I jumped into the nozzle of a gun.

I love your joking. We both know the only gun you admitted was the one we shared. You never jumped. You were in it the whole time.

My Gabriel horns, my Gabriel horns, unfold the cheerfulies, my gay jubilation.

I type your heaven'd words, and hate you for your death. Love over death you always said.

But Death wins again.