I lie on my back at midnight hearing the marvelous strange chime of the clocks, and know it's mid- night and in that instant the whole world swims into sight for me in the form of beautiful swarm- ing m u t t a worlds- everything is happening, shining Buhudda-lands, bhuti blazing in faith, I know I'm forever right & all's I got to do (as I hear the ordinary extant voices of ladies talking in some kitchen at midnight oilcloth cups of cocoa cardore to mump the rinnegain in his darlin drain-) i will write it, all the talk of the world everywhere in this morning, leav- ing open parentheses sections for my own accompanying inner thoughts-with roars of me all brain-all world roaring-vibrating-I put it down, swiftly, 1,000 words (of pages) compressed into one second of time-I'll be long robed & long gold haired in the famous Greek afternoon of some Greek City Fame Immortal & they'll have to find me where they find the t h n u p f t of my shroud bags flying flag yagging Lucien Midnight back in their mouths-Gore Vidal'll be amazed, annoyed— my words'll be writ in gold & preserved in libraries like Finnegans Wake & Visions of Neal - See more at: http://allpoetry.com/Daydreams-for-Ginsberg#sthash.jAccNYFu.dpuf