The End, by Allen Ginsberg

[http://users.livejournal.com/_outercourse/]

I am I, old Father Fisheye that begat the ocean, the worm at my
own ear, the serpent turning around a tree,
I sit in the mind of the oak and hide in the rose, I know if any
wake up, none but my death,
come to me bodies, come to me prophecies, come all foreboding,
come spirits and visions,
I recieve all, I'll die of cancer, I enter the coffin forever, I close
my eye, I disappear,
I fall on myself in winder snow, I roll in a great wheel through
rain, I watch fuckers in convulsion,
car screech, furies groaning their basso music, memory fading
in the brain, men imitating dogs,
I delight in a woman's belly, youth stretching his breast and
thighs to sex, the cock sprung upward
gassing its seed on the lips of Yin, the beasts dance in Siam,
they sing opera in Moscow,
my boys yearn at dusk on stoops I enter New York, I play my
jazz on a Chicago Harpsichord,
Love that bore me I bear back to my Origin with no loss, I loat
over my vomiter
thrilled with my deathlessness, thrilled with this endlessness I
dice and bury,
come Poet shut up eat my word, and taste my mouth in your ear.