So I got to hear Laurie Anderson read this poem by Allen Ginsberg at the Beat Celebration at the 92nd Street Y and you didn’t because no one wanted the extra tickets I had. Memoirist Joyce Johnson, poet Hettie Jones, author and photographer Ann Charters, and archivist Bill Morgan were great, too.

Song  

        The weight of the world
        is love.
        Under the burden
        of solitude,
        under the burden
        of dissatisfaction
        the weight,
        the weight we carry
        is love.
        Who can deny?
        In dreams
        it touches
        the body,
        in thought
        constructs
        a miracle,
        in imagination
        anguishes
        till born
        in human–
        looks out of the heart
        burning with purity–
        for the burden of life
        is love,
        but we carry the weight
        wearily,
        and so must rest
        in the arms of love
        at last,
        must rest in the arms
        of love.
        No rest
        without love,
        no sleep
        without dreams
        of love–
        be mad or chill
        obsessed with angels
        or machines,
        the final wish
        is love
        –cannot be bitter,
        cannot deny,
        cannot withhold
        if denied:
        the weight is too heavy
        –must give
        for no return
        as thought
        is given
        in solitude
        in all the excellence
        of its excess.
        The warm bodies
        shine together
        in the darkness,
        the hand moves
        to the center
        of the flesh,
        the skin trembles
        in happiness
        and the soul comes
        joyful to the eye–
        yes, yes,
        that’s what
        I wanted,
        I always wanted,
        I always wanted,
        to return
        to the body
        where I was born.