“I Guess..” – Ginsberg on Dylan (on Bob Dylan’s Birthday)

An unpublished poem/song of Allen’s, rediscovered on Bob Dylan’s birthday

From an audio tape in the Stanford archives, (the recording is from 1972) – listen here

AG:  I’d like to play more music..

Interviewer: Can you answer a question Have you had a chance to see Bob Dylan ?

AG: Yeah – well I haven’t seem him for..oh, about half a year. I saw a lot of him about a year ago and I get messages from him, but what’s your question?

Interviewer: I just wondered about the progression of songs what he’s planning to do?

AG: He’s riding around New York, checking out on his old friends, fanning out sort of, visiting people and playing with musicians like David Bromberg, making a lot of tapes, well, he came over to my house about a year ago and started working with me and then we went into the studio and made a record together which’ll be out sooner or later. So he’s just sort of fanning out and covering a lot of territory that he forgot about or left out – and he’s interested in improvisation as a form.  And he gave away his power, threw it all away. He cut down on his agency, cut down on the number of people that were working for him, cut down on the number of lawyers and accountants, gave away his worldly power, so that actually he couldn’t put on a giant show even if he wanted to now. All he can do is run around and be himself because he doesn’t have to be.. In order to put on a giant show like the (Rolling) Stones did, you have to have about several hundred people working, and he only has five or six people working for him) because..

Interviewer: But he still has his cosmic consciousness?

AG: Oh, more so – enough to have given away all his powers!

Interviewer: This happened over.. what..

AG: The last seven…. the last…  ‘ since 68.   A slow process. He’s got four kids around the house who cover the house walls with crayon. So he’s got a normal husbandly life, you know, with his kids yelling at him.

Interviewer: So he just lives..

AG: Living but, no, also exploring. He did a lot of..he started studying Hebrew, went to Israel…

Allen, then, accompanying himself on harmonium,  transforms the conversation into a song, “I Guess”,  a spontaneous improvisation.

I GUESS

I guess he got sick of having to get up all the time and get scared of being shot down.
Also probably he got sick of being a methedrine clown.
Also he wanted to go back and explore MacDougal Street in New York town.

I guess he got sick of cosmic consciousness that was too abstract
I guess he wanted to go back to his home, babies, babies’ shit, baths,
I guess he wanted to change his own children’s diapers and not get lost in a last or a metaphorical act

I guess he felt maybe he had enough gold for the road
I guess he felt America was big enough already and he need not be further on board
I guess he felt as prophet he’d better show a good example and bring himself down in the world

I guess he took Zen Chinese doubt and became an anonymous lout
I guess he figured he’d better step down off high stage before he got kicked out
I guess he felt lonesome and blue and he wanted out

I guess he did what anyone sensible would do
Otherwise like Mick Jagger he’d have to go out on the stage wearing curtains of blue
And fly around the world with a great be-diamonded crew

I guess he felt he’d used up enough of the electric supply
I guess he knew that the angel of death would die
I guess he sighed his first mortal sigh

I guess he guessed he could find out his own mortal space
I guess he desired to examine his own family face
I guess he decided to act with a more modest grace

I guess he decided to learn from an ancient old psalm
So Hebrew he studied as once he had battled his lungs
I guess he was quiet to learn a new kind of song

I guess he thought he was not due for heavenly love
He must have seen Vajra Hells round his vision he hung
He must have seen infernos and assassins shooting his love

I guess he decided to die while he was alive
In that way as in ancient death-in-life saints always fly
Above all, remember his children, and he already taking himself a great lie

I guess he decided to be as well as things are blue
I guess he decided like Prospero, throw his magic wand into the ocean so blue
Burn up all his magic books, go back to Genoa, pick something new

I guess he decided like Prospero, world was a dream
Every third thought his the grave, or so samsara would seem,
So he took the bodhisattva vow and saw the golden light of death come gleam

I guess he decided he did not need to be more big
I guess he decided he was not the great cosmic pig
I guess he decided to end this song and disappear more clear

Thinking of you today (all those many years later!) – Happy Birthday, Bob