Railroad yard in San Jose
I wandered desolate
In front of a tank factory
And sat on a bench
Near the swichman'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' inch-long
Crown, and soild
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,
Though spiky and ugly flower,
Flower nonethelss,
With the form of great yellow
Rose in your brain!
This is the flower of the world.
-Allen Ginsburg, San Jose, 1954-
|
