Underneath The Bridge In Search Of Ginsbergs Sunflower

Grey Legs tatooed-
Signature of another summers
death.
Cracks like libereted rivers
run from base to road.
Rizla caught in obtrusive winds
fall like paper snow.
Weeds compete for light
consuming beauty
and space.
Damp unurtured grass
lays limp drunk on
pools of beer and piss.
Sand and Stone
shower the world below
as the trains rush by above.

There are no sunflowers here
No flowered saviour,
No drunk poet friend
to lend me a word or two.
Close one book and open another-
there are no Daffodils here either.

by Not Long Left

Comments (1)

Strong descriptive piece, Vincey.