{"id":82,"date":"2015-08-25T16:25:43","date_gmt":"2015-08-25T16:25:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528f15\/?page_id=82"},"modified":"2015-08-25T16:25:43","modified_gmt":"2015-08-25T16:25:43","slug":"lawrence-ferlinghetti","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/teaching.lfhanley.net\/eng528fa16\/texts\/lawrence-ferlinghetti\/","title":{"rendered":"Lawrence Ferlinghetti"},"content":{"rendered":"

“Dog” (1958)<\/strong>
\nThe dog trots freely in the street
\nand sees reality
\nand the things he sees
\nare bigger than himself
\nand the things he sees
\nare his reality
\nDrunks in doorways
\nMoons on trees
\nThe dog trots freely thru the street
\nand the things he sees
\nare smaller than himself
\nFish on newsprint
\nAnts in holes
\nChickens in Chinatown windows
\ntheir heads a block away
\nThe dog trots freely in the street
\nand the things he smells
\nsmell something like himself
\nThe dog trots freely in the street
\npast puddles and babies
\ncats and cigars
\npoolrooms and policemen
\nHe doesn’t hate cops
\nHe merely has no use for them
\nand he goes past them
\nand past the dead cows hung up whole
\nin front of the San Francisco Meat Market
\nHe would rather eat a tender cow
\nthan a tough policeman
\nthough either might do
\nAnd he goes past the Romeo Ravioli Factory
\nand past Coit’s Tower
\nand past Congressman Doyle of the Unamerican Committee
\nHe’s afraid of Coit’s Tower
\nbut he’s not afraid of Congressman Doyle
\nalthough what he hears is very discouraging
\nvery depressing
\nvery absurd
\nto a sad young dog like himself
\nto a serious dog like himself
\nBut he has his own free world to live in
\nHis own fleas to eat
\nHe will not be muzzled
\nCongressman Doyle is just another
\nfire hydrant
\nto him
\nThe dog trots freely in the street
\nand has his own dog’s life to live
\nand to think about
\nand to reflect upon
\ntouching and tasting and testing everything
\ninvestigating everything
\nwithout benefit of perjury
\na real realist
\nwith a real tale to tell
\nand a real tail to tell it with
\na real live
\nbarking
\ndemocratic dog
\nengaged in real
\nfree enterprise
\nwith something to say
\nabout ontology
\nsomething to say
\nabout reality
\nand how to see it
\nand how to hear it
\nwith his head cocked sideways
\nat streetcorners
\nas if he is just about to have
\nhis picture taken
\nfor Victor Records
\nlistening for
\nHis Master’s Voice
\nand looking
\nlike a living questionmark
\ninto the
\ngreat gramophone
\nof puzzling existence
\nwith its wondrous hollow horn
\nwhich always seems
\njust about to spout forth
\nsome Victorious answer
\nto everything<\/p>\n

“The Old Italians Dying” (1979)<\/strong>
\nFor years the old Italians have been dying
\nall over America
\nFor years the old Italians in faded felt hats
\nhave been sunning themselves and dying
\nYou have seen them on the benches
\nin the park in Washington Square
\nthe old Italians in their black high button shoes
\nthe old men in their old felt fedoras
\nwith stained hatbands
\nhave been dying and dying
\nday by day
\nYou have seen them
\nevery day in Washington Square San Francisco
\nthe slow bell
\ntolls in the morning
\nin the Church of Peter & Paul
\nin the marzipan church on the plaza
\ntoward ten in the morning the slow bell tolls
\nin the towers of Peter & Paul
\nand the old men who are still alive
\nsit sunning themselves in a row
\non the wood benches in the park
\nand watch the processions in and out
\nfunerals in the morning
\nweddings in the afternoon
\nslow bell in the morning Fast bell at noon
\nIn one door out the other
\nthe old men sit there in their hats
\nand watch the coming & going
\nYou have seen them
\nthe ones who feed the pigeons
\ncutting the stale bread
\nwith their thumbs & penknives
\nthe ones with old pocketwatches
\nthe old ones with gnarled hands
\nand wild eyebrows
\nthe ones with the baggy pants
\nwith both belt & suspenders
\nthe grappa drinkers with teeth like corn
\nthe Piemontesi the Genovesi the Siciliani
\nsmelling of garlic & pepperoni
\nthe ones who loved Mussolini
\nthe old fascists
\nthe ones who loved Garibaldi
\nthe old anarchists reading L\u2019Umanita Nova
\nthe ones who loved Sacco & Vanzetti
\nThey are almost all gone now
\nThey are sitting and waiting their turn
\nand sunning themselves in front of the church
\nover the doors of which is inscribed
\na phrase which would seem to be unfinished
\nfrom Dante\u2019s Paradiso
\nabout the glory of the One
\nwho moves everything\u2026
\nThe old men are waiting
\nfor it to be finished
\nfor their glorious sentence on earth
\nto be finished
\nthe slow bell tolls & tolls
\nthe pigeons strut about
\nnot even thinking of flying
\nthe air too heavy with heavy tolling
\nThe black hired hearses draw up
\nthe black limousines with black windowshades
\nshielding the widows
\nthe widows with the black long veils
\nwho will outlive them all
\nYou have seen them
\nmadre de terra, madre di mare
\nThe widows climb out of the limousines
\nThe family mourners step out in stiff suits
\nThe widows walk so slowly
\nup the steps of the cathedral
\nfishnet veils drawn down
\nleaning hard on darkcloth arms
\nTheir faces do not fall apart
\nThey are merely drawn apart
\nThey are still the matriarchs
\noutliving everyone
\nin Little Italys all over America
\nthe old dead dagos
\nhauled out in the morning sun
\nthat does not mourn for anyone
\nOne by one Year by year
\nthey are carried out
\nThe bell
\nnever stops tolling
\nThe old Italians with lapstrake faces
\nare hauled out of the hearses
\nby the paid pallbearer
\nin mafioso mourning coats & dark glasses
\nThe old dead men are hauled out
\nin their black coffins like small skiffs
\nThey enter the true church
\nfor the first time in many years
\nin these carved black boats
\nThe priests scurry about
\nas if to cast off the lines
\nThe other old men
\nstill alive on the benches
\nwatch it all with their hats on
\nYou have seen them sitting there
\nwaiting for the bocce ball to stop rolling
\nwaiting for the bell
\nfor the slow bell
\nto be finished tolling
\ntelling the unfinished Paradiso story
\nas seen in an unfinished phrase
\non the face of a church
\nin a black boat without sails
\nmaking his final haul<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

“Dog” (1958) The dog trots freely in the street and sees reality and the things he sees are bigger than himself and the things he sees are his reality Drunks in doorways Moons on trees The dog trots freely thru the street and the things he sees are smaller than himself Fish on newsprint Ants<\/p>\n