2 мин
Слушать(AI)In 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.
Allen Ginsberg
Irwin Allen Ginsberg (June 3, 1926 – April 5, 1997) was an American poet and writer. As a student at Columbia University in the 1940s, he began
Комментарии
Вам нужно войти , чтобы оставить комментарий
Другие работы автора
Plutonian Ode
What new element before us unborn in nature Is there a new thing under the Sun At last inquisitive Whitman a modern epic, detonative, Scientific First penned unmindful by Doctor Seaborg with poison- ous hand, named for Death's plane...
To Aunt Rose
Aunt Rose—now—might I see you with your thin face and buck tooth smile and pain of rheumatism—and a long black heavy shoe for your bony left leg limping down the long hall in Newark on the running carpet past the black grand piano in the day room ...
The Terms In Which I Think Of Reality
Reality is a question of realizing how real the world is already Time is Eternity, ultimate and immovable; everyone's an angel It's Heaven's mystery of changing perfection : absolute Eternity changes Cars are always going down the s...
Howl
For Carl Solomon I I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked, dragging themselves through the negro streets at dawn looking for an angry fix,
