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I thought it was interesting that Ginsberg chooses to talk about Whitman in a Supermarket in CA. Whitman was a part of the first generation born in America. He was proud of the country. It seems like Ginsberg thinks about how horrible Whitman would think his country has become.
I agree with Christina = I like he last stanza of Sunflower Sutra. It sums up the message of the poem in a very powerful way.
]]>“We’re not our skin of grime, we’re not our dread, bleak dusty imageless locomotive, we’re all beautiful golden sunflowers inside, we’re blessed by our own seed & golden hairy accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sit-down vision.”
and, of course, that line in Howl, describing those who “walked all night with their shoes full of blood on the snowbank docks waiting for a door in the East River to open to a room full of steamheat and opium.”
I can just imagine a group of sick, pathetic individuals with no means and no hope, shivering in their rags in the freezing cold snow by the dirty water of the East River, perhaps on FDR Drive, waiting as hopelessly as Vladamir and Estragon wait for Godot, motionless and still, waiting for one of them to step forward and perhaps part the river like Moses did the Red Sea, and allow all of them to find a place where (as Conor Oberst put it) “the hopeless sick…are welcome.”
Waiting for a place in society where they could live and be accepted, away from the poverty and tyranny and sickness.
A home.
Nothing more beautifully desperate than that.
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