Poetry Breaks: Allen Ginsberg Reads "A Supermarket in California" 

I love his way of reading it out loud, cause I read it so differently... That's what I love about art and litterature

Great poem that captures a California supermarket where the light is a little too bright. Also captures the loneliness of the poet, who imagines Walt Whitman nearby, although Ginsberg deals with that in a surprisingly funny way.

What a wonderful poem. It has such a naive tone, just showcasing playful and complete devotion to his literary idols, recognising the influence of Whitman on all subsequent American poetry but doing it in such a fraternal way that makes it so sweet. All paired with his amazing and light-hearted way of reading, emphasising every single word, rediscovering and savouring every single one of them.

Since i found this poem, i have read it again and again and... 👍💟

I love his lighthearted way of reading this, as someone else commented, different that how it sounded in my own mind when I first read it, but how I always read it since.

His voice is so calming- amazing poem

My most most Favourite Poet!!!!!

He was a member of NAMBLA ✌️

Fascinating to watch Ginsberg performing his poems. He gives it a quirky, lyrical quality which carries so much meaning.

poem for a quarantine

Great poem.

Brilliant, he reads it in verse form, musical as his idol William Blake is intended to be read.

i found this poem from an english class and it literally changed my perspective on poetry

THERE IS A YOU TUBE CLIP OUT THERE OF HIM READING IT ( PRO MIKE, IN A STUDIO ) TO STILL PHOTOS. .. WITH HEADPHONES,.. I'D LISTEN .. AND I'D LAUGH , LIKE A SMALL LOST CHILD~

I love Ginsberg so much, he is my favorite poet ...

My favorite poem by Ginsberg

This poem triggers emotion.

What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumera tions ! What peaches and what penumbras ! Whole families shopping at night ! Aisles full of husbands ! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes !-and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each : Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? {I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

Where are we going now, Allan? We'll both be lonely.

The Master of Poetry

Dear Mr. Teacher, R.I.P.

wow

Is the "whole families" bit a nod to Kerouac, or did Ginsberg start it first?

this reading is so cute

ALLEN GINSBERG is my main inspiration for writing poetry

"Who killed the porkchops!" 😂

OG Slam poet

"What Peaches... What Penumbras..." What sublime and brilliant simplicity... The rhythm of his words is like a dance!

Genius

Absolute genius.

The music chosen to begin and end the “vid” is beyond awful

If he w(as/ere) still alive he could tabulate the amount of kweer bait east of East River and the complete selection of massage and muscle relaxers across the universe!

I am born and raised in So CA, actually 5th generation California -- our family coming in 1849 in search of gold. I was puzzled why he chose California for his backdrop when we have room to breathe here, yet he is reading from his Manhattan apartment, where it would seem there are more people per square block than per square mile here in So CA. Perhaps he is just another Manhattan devotee like Woody Allen and recognize the city as their only true (and lonely) home.

1:56

0:30

Allan was a great piet.

Allen Ginsberg is such an advocate for free speech, he joined NAMBLA to defend it!

kinda romantic and lyrical. Ginsberg wasn't an angel but his poetry speaks volumes of the Beat Gen. everybody focuses on his extracurricular activities. he was a poet. we are not perfect or immortal.

Tony Long.

Where was this shot?

Professor s2

Mario Brega

He's a unconscious troll.

POETRY FOUNDATION POEMS & POETS HARRIET ARTICLES VIDEO PODCASTS LEARN EVENTS POETRY MAGAZINE ABOUT US Newsletter Subscribe Search A Supermarket in California Launch Audio in a New Window BY ALLEN GINSBERG What thoughts I have of you tonight, Walt Whitman, for I walked down the sidestreets under the trees with a headache self-conscious looking at the full moon. In my hungry fatigue, and shopping for images, I went into the neon fruit supermarket, dreaming of your enumerations! What peaches and what penumbras! Whole families shopping at night! Aisles full of husbands! Wives in the avocados, babies in the tomatoes!-and you, Garcia Lorca, what were you doing down by the watermelons? I saw you, Walt Whitman, childless, lonely old grubber, poking among the meats in the refrigerator and eyeing the grocery boys. I heard you asking questions of each: Who killed the pork chops? What price bananas? Are you my Angel? I wandered in and out of the brilliant stacks of cans following you, and followed in my imagination by the store detective. We strode down the open corridors together in our solitary fancy tasting artichokes, possessing every frozen delicacy, and never passing the cashier. Where are we going, Walt Whitman? The doors close in an hour. Which way does your beard point tonight? (I touch your book and dream of our odyssey in the supermarket and feel absurd.) Will we walk all night through solitary streets? The trees add shade to shade, lights out in the houses, we'll both be lonely. Will we stroll dreaming of the lost America of love past blue automobiles in driveways, home to our silent cottage? Ah, dear father, graybeard, lonely old courage-teacher, what America did you have when Charon quit poling his ferry and you got out on a smoking bank and stood watching the boat disappear on the black waters of Lethe?

It was when my government wished me a season of severe illness and death

Kerouac and Burroughs are still better, but Ginsberg is legendary right behind them.

I wish he was alive to tell us his thoughts on trump and our society today

I don’t get poetry. I don’t understand why people are so moved by it.

This is horrendous as expected.

I don't know him. But he said fame is a curse with no redeeming features. But then, he was a gay Jew on hallucinogenic drugs lol.

Christ is the ONLY WAY to heavrn.

shite

Prosaic poetry, not literary, just another ego, among the first "politics of identity" media successes, can't look at his work without a cringe.

Irritating, faux-playful intonation by an overrated poet.

😂. This is amateurish trash.