The Terms In Which I Think Of Reality (by Allen Ginsberg)

Full disclosure: I can't think of anything interesting to post. I think it has to do with the fact that I haven't been to the library lately. Reading begets writing. Instead, I changed my blog background, hoping that would shake things up a bit. The washing machines are an homage to my current job, which has me doing approximately 7-8 loads of laundry each week (not counting my personal laundry). Alas, the change of scenery doesn't inspire me. Here's a poem I just rediscovered:

The Terms In Which I Think Of Reality Allen Ginsberg Reality is a question of realizing how real the world is already. Time is Eternity, ultimate and immovable; everyone's an angel. It's Heaven's mystery of changing perfection : absolute Eternity changes! Cars are always going down the street, lamps go off and on. It's a great flat plain; we can see everything on top of a table. Clams open on the table, lambs are eaten by worms on the plain. The motion of change is beautiful, as well as form called in and out of being. Next : to distinguish process in its particularity with an eye to the initiation of gratifying new changes desired in the real world. Here we're overwhelmed with such unpleasant detail we dream again of Heaven. For the world is a mountain of shit : if it's going to be moved at all, it's got to be taken by handfuls. Man lives like the unhappy whore on River Street who in her Eternity gets only a couple of bucks and a lot of snide remarks in return for seeking physical love the best way she knows how, never really heard of a glad job or joyous marriage or a difference in the heart : or thinks it isn't for her, which is her worst misery. ------------------------------- My favorite lines are: For the world is a mountain/of shit: if it's going to/be moved at all, it's got  to be taken by handfuls. Mountains need to be moved every day, and sometimes all you can do is pick them up, handful by handful, and start moving. You may not get the entire mountain moved in your lifetime, but just maybe you'll have put a dent in it. Except mountains of laundry. Those are never-ending and continuously-regenerating.