Tag Archives: Allen Ginsberg

An End to Madness

Posted on May 17, 2012 by John

I have seen the best kinds of madness destroyed by my generation: all strange chaotic magic stilled in the great press of conformity’s graveyard silent stare, all tangents pruned before they fruit, left in the harsh day’s sun to wither; … Continue reading →

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Another Thought on Ginsberg

Posted on April 28, 2004 by John

From Barry Miles’ biography of Ginsberg (link under current.reading), page 488: Eorsi [Hungarian poet Istvan Eorsi] pointed out that, unlike Mayakovsky [Vladimir Mayakovsky, Georgian poet, see * below], who had to live with the revolution that he prophesied and helped … Continue reading →

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Staggering Fact of the Day

Posted on April 27, 2004 by John

It is estimated that when Allen Ginsberg died, besides the manuscripts (both his own and those he schlepped around for friends), miscellaneous papers and other drafts for publication, he had over 60,000 pieces of correspondence, representing every letter he had … Continue reading →

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Outside the Morphology of Poetics

Posted on April 27, 2004 by John

For about two years, I have immersed myself in the classic forms of Poetry, forcing myself when I write to use common stanza forms with their dictates of rhyme and meter. I felt this was a necessary exercise to “formalize” … Continue reading →

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While Reading of Ginsberg’s Life

Posted on April 27, 2004 by John

To wake while reading William Blake to taste of life in dreamlike doses flexing the sinews of the mind in the fight against some status quo that lumbers, like a Clydesdale pair to drag a dying culture’s broken-wheeled cart along … Continue reading →

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For Allen Ginsberg

Posted on July 30, 2003 by John

I can hear you breathing, America Will you catch up with me Dangling your embittered and jealous umbilicus Asking Who among you when your child asks for bread Will hand him a grenade? It’s not some dark sin that hides … Continue reading →

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Howling

Posted on January 31, 2003 by John

I have seen the great minds of my own mad generation, lost there on the long road to find-out, trolling in a dry wasteland of television idols and false dawns; of lingering doubts on the new world order, lolling aimlessly … Continue reading →

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