"Sunflower Sutra" Allen Ginsberg

“Sunflower Sutra”

I walked on the banks of the tincan banana dock and sat down under the huge shade of a Southern Pacific locomotive to look at the sunset over the box house hills and cry.

Jack Kerouac sat beside me on a busted rusty iron pole, companion, we thought the same thoughts of the soul, bleak and blue and sad-eyed, surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery.

The oily water on the river mirrored the red sky, sun sank on top of final Frisco peaks, no fish in that stream, no hermit in those mounts, just ourselves rheumy-eyed and hung-over like old bums on the riverbank, tired and wily.

Look at the Sunflower, he said, there was a dead gray shadow against the sky, big as a man, sitting dry on top of a pile of ancient sawdust—

—I rushed up enchanted—it was my first sunflower, memories of Blake—my visions—Harlem

and Hells of the Eastern rivers, bridges clanking Joes Greasy Sandwiches, dead baby carriages, black treadless tires forgotten and unretreaded, the poem of the riverbank, condoms & pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past—

and the gray Sunflower poised against the sunset, crackly bleak and dusty with the smut and smog and smoke of olden locomotives in its eye—

corolla of bleary spikes pushed down and broken like a battered crown, seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless mouth of sunny air, sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb,

leaves stuck out like arms out of the stem, gestures from the sawdust root, broke pieces of plaster fallen out of the black twigs, a dead fly in its ear,

Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I loved you then!

The grime was no man’s grime but death and human locomotives,

all that dress of dust, that veil of darkened railroad skin, that smog of cheek, that eyelid of black mis’ry, that sooty hand or phallus or protuberance of artificial worse-than-dirt—industrial—modern—all that civilization spotting your crazy golden crown—

and those blear thoughts of death and dusty loveless eyes and ends and withered roots below, in the home-pile of sand and sawdust, rubber dollar bills, skin of machinery, the guts and innards of the weeping coughing car, the empty lonely tincans with their rusty tongues alack, what more could I name, the smoked ashes of some cock cigar, the cunts of wheelbarrows and the milky breasts of cars, wornout asses out of chairs & sphincters of dynamos—all these

entangled in your mummied roots—and you there standing before me in the sunset, all your glory in your form!

A perfect beauty of a sunflower! a perfect excellent lovely sunflower existence! a sweet natural eye to the new hip moon, woke up alive and excited grasping in the sunset shadow sunrise golden monthly breeze!

How many flies buzzed round you innocent of your grime, while you cursed the heavens of the railroad and your flower soul?

Poor dead flower? when did you forget you were a flower? when did you look at your skin and decide you were an impotent dirty old locomotive? the ghost of a locomotive? the specter and shade of a once powerful mad American locomotive?

You were never no locomotive, Sunflower, you were a sunflower!   

And you Locomotive, you are a locomotive, forget me not!

So I grabbed up the skeleton thick sunflower and stuck it at my side like a scepter,

and deliver my sermon to my soul, and Jack’s soul too, and anyone who’ll listen,

—We’re not our skin of grime, we’re not dread bleak dusty imageless locomotives, we’re golden sunflowers inside, blessed by our own seed & hairy naked accomplishment-bodies growing into mad black formal sunflowers in the sunset, spied on by our own eyes under the shadow of the mad locomotive riverbank sunset Frisco hilly tincan evening sitdown vision.

Berkeley, 1955

Title:

When first looking at the title, there is a cheerful and genuine sense that is associated with the word “sunflower.” Plants are part of nature so it could be a reflection of nature. “Sutra” is a Buddhist scripture so there could be some philosophical meaning attached to the sunflower.

Paraphrase:

The speaker, along with Jack Kerouac, sit with the view of a sunset before them and contemplate this “sunflower” and the effect that machinery and industrialization has had on it. This sunflower reminds the speaker of his life in New York, and then transitions into describing the deterioration of this flower. By the end of the poem there is hope for this sunflower to still be beautiful and sweet.

Connotation:

The most obvious symbol and translation of this poem is through the sunflower. This object represents not only the American culture, but the roots to its deterioration. Lines 1-8 describe the natural form of America, but also introduces the destructiveness of industrialization on society, “...surrounded by the gnarled steel roots of the trees of machinery” (4). Lines 9-28 introduce the speakers life in New York and how the sunflower enhances the memories from the city. Society has domesticated this “sunflower” (America) due to its ever changing dissatisfaction, “..artificial worse-than-dirt-industrial-modern-all that civilization spotting your crazy golden/crown” (21-22).  The end of the poem ties together the idea of hope and “golden sunflowers inside” (39) each individual. This depicts the sense of hope for society. The last paragraph of the poem, where this line takes place, is said in a religious type of way, illustrating the nature of religious hope.

Form: Like all of Ginsberg's poems, this is free verse. The sentences are lengthy to portray a sense of religious sermon in this case. They are suppose to be read in a very full and grasping way.

Diction: Diction is used to promote the harsh reality of the American culture, as well as sensualize the sunflowers essence. “..condoms and pots, steel knives, nothing stainless, only the dank/muck and the razor-sharp artifacts passing into the past” (11-12); “gnarled steel roots of trees of machinery” (4); “dust” is used constantly in this poem (anaphora) to indicate the possession that society’s culture had on Americans. This “dust” shaped the American culture into one of submission and conformity.

Imagery: This poem is chalked full of imagery to emphasize the importance and lasting effect of society on American culture through the description of the sunflower (highlighted in red on poem).

Point of View: I believe that this is from Ginsberg’s perspective. This poem mentions Blake, visions, and New York, which are all prevalent people or aspects of Ginsberg’s life. He is looking at America from the perspective of someone who has seen the culture change before his own eyes.

Allusions: “Hells of the Eastern river”

Literary Devices: Apostrophe “Unholy battered old thing you were, my sunflower O my soul, I love you then!” (19); personification “milky breasts of cars” (34) “seeds fallen out of its face, soon-to-be-toothless/mouth of sunny air ,sunrays obliterated on its hairy head” (15-16); simile “hung-over like old bums on the riverbank” (6) “sunrays obliterated on its hairy head like a dried wire spiderweb”(16).

Attitude/tone:

The speaker is distrubed by the industrialized affect of society on the American culture. Unlike “My Sad Self,” this entire poem does not revolve around lementation. There is anger that is strewn throughout this poem, along with the realization of hope. “We’re golden sunflowers inside” (41) pronounces this hope because he sees beauty in this sunflower (America).

Theme:

Although society can affect the society, the world is ever changing and there is always room for hope.