Poetry Month: Day 17 – Allen Gingsberg

I just can’t skip Gingsberg, he’s got one of the best senses of rhythm I’ve ever encountered. Especially if you want to rant and rave! He’s pedantic and arrogant and boastful, and Kurt Vonnegut does a great slam on Gingsberg in his autobiography “Palm Sunday”. That being said, Allen is all of those things with style.

In the Back of the Real:

railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
in front of a tank factory
and sat on a bench
near the switchman’s shack.

A flower lay on the hay on
the asphalt highway
–the dread hay flower
I thought–It had a
brittle black stem and
corolla of yellowish dirty
spikes like Jesus’ inchlong
crown, and a soiled
dry center cotton tuft
like a used shaving brush
that’s been lying under
the garage for a year.

Yellow, yellow flower, and
flower of industry,
tough spiky ugly flower,
flower nonetheless,
with the form of the great yellow
Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the World.

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About Sean Smith

Husband, Father, Pastor, Swimmer, Writer, Reader, and attempted Adventurer!
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