Blandly mother <br />takes him strolling <br />by railroad and by river <br />-he's the son of the absconded <br />hot rod angel- <br />and he imagines cars <br />and rides them in his dreams, <br /> <br />so lonely growing up among <br />the imaginary automobiles <br />and dead souls of Tarrytown <br /> <br />to create <br />out of his own imagination <br />the beauty of his wild <br />forebears-a mythology <br />he cannot inherit. <br /> <br />Will he later hallucinate <br />his gods? Waking <br />among mysteries with <br />an insane gleam <br />of recollection? <br /> <br />The recognition- <br />something so rare <br />in his soul, <br />met only in dreams <br />-nostalgias <br />of another life. <br /> <br />A question of the soul. <br />And the injured <br />losing their injury <br />in their innocence <br />-a cock, a cross, <br />an excellence of love. <br /> <br />And the father grieves <br />in flophouse <br />complexities of memory <br />a thousand miles <br />away, unknowing <br />of the unexpected <br />youthful stranger <br />bumming toward his door.<br /><br />Allen Ginsberg<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/wild-orphan/
