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A psychoanalytic perspective on Allen Ginsberg’s Kaddish (1961)

 

Strange now to think of you, gone without corsets & eyes, 

      While I walk on the sunny pavement of Greenwich 

      Village.

downtown Manhattan, clear winter noon, and I’ve been up

     all night, talking, talking, reading the Kaddish aloud

     listening to Ray Charles blues shout blind on the phono-

     graph

the rhythm the rhythm – and your memory in my head three 

     years after – And read Adonais’ last triumphant stanzas 

     aloud – wept, realizing how we suffer – Continue Reading…