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Bloom's Literary Themes - ymerleksi - home

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46<br />

Allen Ginsberg<br />

Following the chants, Ginsberg reads his ode to his sphincter muscle,<br />

and Doty steals a glance around the room, to discover the audience<br />

loves it. How is this? He wonders. Shouldn’t they be offended? Doty<br />

concludes that Ginsberg managed somehow to sidestep the question<br />

of what is polite or obscene or gay or straight. He created “some<br />

zone of permission and distinction for himself that seemed to make<br />

all things possible” (13). But perhaps with that particular setting and<br />

audience, teachers in the presence of a now legendary cultural figure,<br />

those who were disgruntled kept quiet and respectful. One can think<br />

of many contexts—not merely the U.S. Senate or the PTA—where<br />

these poems would be far from welcome, 50 years after the attempted<br />

banning of Howl.<br />

The division between the sacred and the profane—the structure of<br />

which, though the contents vary, is found in every culture—is destabilized<br />

in the long poems of both Whitman and Ginsberg. We saw this<br />

in “Footnote to Howl.” Consider Whitman:<br />

Divine am I inside and out, and I make holy whatever I touch<br />

or am touch’d from,<br />

The scent of these arm-pits aroma finer than prayer,<br />

This head more than churches, bibles, and all the creeds. (57)<br />

This passage in Song of Myself is followed by a body-centered incantation,<br />

in which the parts of the speaker’s body are catalogued and<br />

celebrated—“I dote on myself, there is that lot of me and all so<br />

luscious”—and in which at several points the last opposition, that of<br />

inside and outside, of me and not-me, is collapsed, as we have seen<br />

earlier in Whitman’s eroticized landscape and atmosphere.<br />

What Ginsberg did is to go far beyond the armpits:<br />

Holy my mother in the insane asylum! Holy the cocks<br />

of the grandfathers of Kansas!<br />

Holy the groaning saxophone! Holy the bop apocalypse!<br />

Holy the jazzbands marijuana hipsters peace<br />

& junk & drums! (27)<br />

The sacred and profane come together: clothes and God and decorum<br />

on one side; nakedness and excrement and howls on the other. Ginsberg,<br />

however transcendent and spiritual, will always be seen as the

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