Talk about a wake up call! Allen Ginsberg died 12 years ago—April 6, 1997. He was 70 then. Would be 82 today had he lived. He was a true renaissance man, but probably is best remembered as a poet. A poet of the spoken word, I would say. Whenever I read his work today, the words fall flat on the page. I remember him in front of an audience -- speaking with gusto -- waving his arms around and answering any drunk in the crowd with verse.
As were so many others, at different times I was his driver, his dinner companion, his student. I watched him protest, lecture, and act as Jewish mother to Gregory Corso, who he thought drank way too much. He was a friend of giants, including Jack Kerouac, Bob Dylan and Leonard Cohen. But also cared so much about the little guy as well.
Twelve years is a long time, but Allen lives on in so many daily lives. That's why his death is still hard to comprehend.
An encounter with Leonard Cohen after a poetry reading in Los Angeles. Cohen was in the audience and Allen was in the lobby signing books after the show. They couldn't stop talking.
Ginsberg with Frank Beacham in the living room of Dr. Howard T. Odom in Gainesville, Florida in 1975. Ginsberg, Gary Snyder, and Michael McClure were there for "Energy and Consciousness" Weekend.
