The Funeral of Bob Kaufman


At the Cafe Trieste
          100 poets converge
                    with his family, friends and the press.

On the corner of Vallejo and Grant
          a Dixieland band begins to play -
                    the parade through North Beach begins.

Across Columbus and Broadway
          in the footsteps of the martyred poet
                    through the stations of his cross.

Stopping first at City Lights,
          the poets own poems are read
          and the poems he loved and some original poems.

The next station, Vesuvios
          the band playing, the poets reading,
                    then across Columbus to Specs,

and then to the Saloon
          these stations where the poet drank
                     and was 86'd.

Then up Grant Avenue to Washington Square Park,
          the final station where the poet laid in the sun
                    the band playing, the poems roar on.

We drive to the Marina
          where three boats wait,
                    the Electra for the family and close friends,

and the Bel Canto
          for photographers and press,
                    and the Wet Willie from the Peace Navy.

More Dixieland music, and the last poems -
          We board the boats.
                    The sun is shining

through a few rain clouds
          that sprinkle the poet's
                    ancient rain on all of us.

We go out on a smooth tide.
          Just off Aquatic Park pier
                    the boats make a circle

and the white ashes
          are shaken from the golden urn
                    into the choppy grey bay.

We throw yellow daffodils
          onto the water and a copy
                    of the silver anniversary Beatitude.

The flowers and the ashes
          and the book float on the surface.
                    Kjaz is playing Charlie Parker

in memory of the dead poet
          who wrote like Bird played.
                    The boats return to the dock.

The poets are hugging each other
          the ancient rain is falling
                    light like snowflakes.

As we drive back to North Beach
          a short, wide rainbow
                    slips like a hand into the bay.


© Allen Cohen

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