07 July 1995
Strolling campus of Naropa Institute
I happen on Allen Ginsberg ancient poet
wrinkled wizard hobbling with cane
looking at books for sale on a table.
I hand him my Black Book of Magic Spells
and ask ancient wizard if he would like
to scribble a spell of vision from his mind
so he takes book and fountain pen and writes.
"Sitting under light clouds he scribes dreams
short of breath in slippery rain-wet words."
Without looking at me through thick glasses
King of May who danced all over this world
like Shiva destroying and creating truth
leaves my book and shuffles into light.