The Poetry of Gregory Corso

I have to admit that I was not only unfamiliar with the poetry of Gregory Corso (1930-2001) but I also had never heard of him. That is, until I walked into an exhibition at the St. Louis Art Museum and saw a monumental painting (roughly 30 feet tall), with its title written into the top of the painting: “For Gregory Corso.” 

I pulled out my phone and Googled him. A Beat poet, an associate of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Frank O’Hara, Neil Cassady, and publisher Lawrence Ferlinghetti of City Lights Bookstore, among several others. That clicked; it placed him in the 1950s in counter-culture San Francisco, a decade before the hippies. Allen Ginsburg’s famous Howl. Beatniks. Cool, man.

Some Thursday Readings

 

We Have Butterflies to See: Four Walks in Central Park – Geoffrey Smagacz at Front Porch Republic.

 

Top 10 Dip into Poetry – Every Day Poems.

 

“The Watchers,” poem by William Stanley Braithwaite – Sally Thomas at Poems Ancient and Modern.

September Beats: Frank O’Hara

Perhaps the best introduction to the poetry of Frank O’Hara (1926-1966) is what he himself had to say. In “Personism: A Manifesto,” O’Hara wrote, “I hate Vachel Lindsay, always have; I don’t even like rhythm, assonance, all that stuff. You just go on your nerve. If someone’s chasing you down the street with a knife you just run, you don’t turn around and shout “Give it up! I was a track star for Mineola Prep.’”

 

That could easily be an O’Hara poem.

O’Hara was one of the lights of what was called the New York School, a group of writers, artists and musicians that included John Ashberry and often Allen Ginsberg. Several of them knew each other from college (like O’Hara and Ashberry). O’Hara crossed all three of the cultural groups represented – he was a poet, he had originally studied music, and was worked at the Museum of Modern Art in New York.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

September Beats: Denise Levertov

In Beat Poets, published by Everyman’s Library, editor Carmela Ciuraru observes that “the Beats…were mostly men, and the work they produced was almost entirely male-focused…Beat writings were often ridiculously misogynistic.” She’s right.

But then there’s Denise Levertov (1923-1997).

I’m almost reluctant to include her in a discussion (and this series) on Beat poets. Her career in poetry transcended the Beat Generation, but then, so did Allen Ginsberg’s. She’s invariably included in collections of Beat poetry (as she is in Beat Poets), but her poetry is more controlled, more designed in a way, less the spontaneous stream of outbursts we associate with the male Beat poets.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry. 

September Beats: Allen Ginsberg

They say all publicity is good. For poet Allen Ginsberg (1926-1997), the publicity he received for the publication of Howl and Other Poems permanently defined his career.

It is 1955. Ginsberg has written a long poem he’s entitles “Howl” that is about capitalism and “the system.” In fact, the poem is a long “howl” about the system. It’s filled with vivid imagery, including sexual imagery, quite graphic sexual imagery.

Poet Louis Ferlinghetti, who owns the City Light Books bookstore in San Francisco, publishes the poem in a relatively small collection. William Carlos Williams writes the introduction. Ginsberg reads the poem publicly in late 1955. City Lights Books arranges the printing in London. The printed volumes arrive, and are promptly seized by customs officials.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

September Beats: Jack Kerouac

He is born in 1922 to French Canadian parents in Massachusetts. For the next seven years, he speaks only French. His Roman Catholic faith shapes him; it does so for the rest of his life.

Even as a child, he writes: a newspaper, a diary, radio plays, even a novel.

He plays football in high school, and plays well. He’s offered a football scholarship to Columbia University in New York City. New York inspires.

World War II begins. He becomes deeply concerned by the shift in morals happening around him. He leaves college, joins the merchant marine. He writes a novel called The Sea is My Brother that won’t be published for 70 years, long after his death.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

September Beat: The Beat Poets

My first introduction to the “Beats” was a caricature. Long before I had heard of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsburg, Denise Levertov, William Burroughs, Frank O’Hara and Neil Cassaday, as a child I watched a weekly sitcom called The Many Loves of Dobie Gillis, set on a small-town college campus. Dobie (Dwayne Hickman) was the hero, chased by the dowdy Zelda and not by the girls he wanted to be chased by. His best friend was Maynard G. Krebs, played by Bob Denver, who went one to greater fame as the lead character in Gilligan’s Island.

Maynard G. Krebs had a goatee in the error when all men shaved. He wore a beret. He acted kind of goofy. He used slang that accentuated the goofiness. Maynard was a beatnik, but a lovable beatnik. We loved to laugh at Maynard G. Krebs. Denver played the character with innocence and often naiveté; Maynard was the child in all of us.

The caricature, safely homogenized for television audiences, including berets, smoke-filled coffee houses, and poetry. Coffeehouse denizens listening to Beat poets didn’t applaud; they nodded and snapped their fingers.

To continue reading, please see my post today at Tweetspeak Poetry.

Photograph: Jack Kerouac.