Be Running Up That Hill

 

 

 

 

 

Tuolumne Meadows 1963

 

 

 

On the Cremation of Chögyam Trungpa, Vidyadhara

By Allan Ginsberg

I noticed the grass, I noticed the hills, I noticed the highways

I noticed the dirt road; I noticed the car rows in the parking lot

I noticed the ticket takers, noticed the cash and the checks and credit cards

I noticed the buses, noticed mourners,

I noticed their children in red dresses

 

 

I noticed the entrance sign, noticed retreat houses, noticed blue and yellow flags

Noticed the devotees, their trucks and buses, guards in khaki uniforms

I noticed the crowds, noticed misty skies, noticed the all–pervading smiles

and empty eyes

 

 

I noticed the pillows, coloured red and yellow, square pillows round and round

I noticed the Tori gate, passers-through bowing, a parade of men & women in formal dress

Noticed the procession, noticed the bagpipe, drums, horns, noticed high silk head crowns

and saffron robes, noticed the three piece suits

I noticed the palanquin, an umbrella, the stupa painted with jewels

the colours of the four directions

 

 

Amber for generosity,

green for karmic works,

I noticed the white for Buddha,

red for the heart

 

 

Thirteen worlds on the stupa hat, noticed the bell handle and umbrella,

the empty head of the white cement bell

Noticed the corpse to be set in the head of the bell

Noticed the monks chanting, horn plaint in our ears, smoke rising from astep the firebrick empty bells

Noticed the crowds quiet, noticed the Chilean poet, noticed a rainbow

I noticed the guru was dead

 

 

I noticed his teacher bare breasted watching the corpse burn in the stupa

Noticed mourning students sad cross legged before their books, chanting devotional mantras

Gesturing mysterious fingers, bells and brass thunderbolts in their hands

I noticed flames rising above flags and wires and umbrellas and painted orange poles

 

 

I noticed,

I noticed the sky,

noticed the sun,

a rainbow around the sun,

light misty clouds drifting over the sun

I noticed my own heart beating,

breath passing through my nostrils

My feet walking,

 eyes seeing

 

 

I've noticed smoke above the corpse, I've noticed fired monuments

I noticed the path downhill, I've noticed the crowd moving toward the buses

I noticed food, lettuce salad, I noticed the teacher was absent

I noticed my friends, I've noticed our car,

I've noticed the blue Volvo

 

 

I've noticed a young boy hold my hand

Our key in the motel door, I noticed a dark room,

I noticed a dream

And forgot, noticed oranges lemons and caviar at breakfast

 

 

I noticed the highway, sleepiness, homework thoughts, the boy's nippled chest in the breeze

As the car rolled down hillsides past green woods to the water

I noticed the houses, balconies overlooking a misted horizon, shore

& old worn rocks in the sand

 

 

I noticed the sea, I noticed the music –

 I wanted to dance.

 

 

Image sourced from Peeks Into Joyce

Poem swiped from Chronicles of CTR