In the Santa Clarita Valley

Found this poem by Gary Snyder from the Writer’s Almanac:

Like skinny wildweed flowers sticking up
hexagonal "Denny’s" sign
starry "Carl’s"
loopy "McDonald’s"
eight-petaled yellow "Shell"
blue-and-white "Mobil" with the big red "O"

growing in the asphalt riparian zone
by the soft roar of the flow
         of Interstate 5.

It’s his birthday today:

"It’s the birthday of the poet Gary Snyder, (books by this author) San Francisco (1930). He’s had a long, steady career as a poet, environmental activist, Zen Buddhist, and a counterculture hero.

As a student, he worked on a trail crew at Yosemite National Park. He said, "I had given up on poetry. Then I got out there and started writing these poems about the rocks and blue jays. I looked at them. They didn’t look like any poems that I had ever written before. So, I said, these must be my own poems." And they became his first book, Riprap, which came out in 1959."

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