C is for Coleridge and Corso (my favorite poets from A to Z - volume 3)
and Gregory Corso could easily qualify as my favorite C poet (with honorable mentions going to Stephen Crane and Geoffrey Chaucer).Another reason I've taken so long: I flirted with focusing on (instead of one poet) our fantastic local poetry scene (C is for Cleveland). But the more I contemplated that idea, the more convinced I became that this rich scene deserves far more than one blog. So it'll probably turn into a future series (and since some of my favorite poets are from Cleveland, there will certainly be some overlap).
For now, let's stick with my favorite poets whose names begin with C.
Coleridge and Corso - an English Romantic and an American Beat....
Both poets have influenced and inspired me - and the works of both have at times played important roles in my artistic and human development. But although I could ramble on for days, I'd rather let these gentlemen do the talking.
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
[Coleridge explained that he wrote "Kubla Khan" after an opium-induced dream. Here it is:]
A stately pleasure-dome decree :
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
With walls and towers were girdled round :
And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree ;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced :
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail :
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering with a mazy motion
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean :
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying war !
Floated midway on the waves ;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice !
In a vision once I saw :
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me,
I would build that dome in air,
That sunny dome ! those caves of ice !
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Gregory Corso
[Corso is probably the least known of the "Beats." He also spent three years in prison as a young man (and that's where he got into poetry). Here are two of his pieces - "Spirit" and an excerpt from "The American Way."]
Spirit
is Life
It flows thru
the death of me
endlessly
like a river
unafraid
of becoming
the sea
[Ah, heck... I'll give you ALL of "The American Way." I just don't feel right abridging it.]
1
I am a great American
I am almost nationalistic about it!
I love America like a madness!
But I am afraid to return to America
I'm even afraid to go into the American Express—
2
They are frankensteining Christ in America
in their Sunday campaigns
They are putting the fear of Christ in America
under their tents in their Sunday campaigns
They are driving old ladies mad with Christ in America
They are televising the gift of healing and the fear of hell
in America under their tents in their Sunday
campaigns
They are leaving their tents and are bringing their Christ
to the stadiums of America in their Sunday
campaigns
They are asking for a full house an all get out
for their Christ in the stadiums of America
They are getting them in their Sunday and Saturday
campaigns
They are asking them to come forward and fall on their
knees
because they are all guilty and they are coming
forward
in guilt and are falling on their knees weeping their
guilt
begging to be saved O Lord O Lord in their Monday
Tuesday Wednesday Thursday Friday Saturday
and Sunday campaigns
3
It is a time in which no man is extremely wondrous
It is a time in which rock stupidity
outsteps the 5th Column as the sole enemy in America
It is a time in which ignorance is a good Ameri-cun
ignorance is excused only where it is so
it is not so in America
Man is not guilty Christ is not to be feared
I am telling you the American Way is a hideous monster
eating Christ making Him into Oreos and Dr. Pepper
the sacrament of its foul mouth
I am telling you the devil is impersonating Christ in America
America's educators & preachers are the mental-dictators
of false intelligence they will not allow America
to be smart
they will only allow death to make America smart
Educators & communicators are the lackeys of the
American Way
They enslave the minds of the young
and the young are willing slaves (but not for long)
because who is to doubt the American Way
is not the way?
The duty of these educators is no different
than the duty of a factory foreman
Replica production make all the young think alike
dress alike believe alike do alike
Togetherness this is the American Way
The few great educators in America are weak & helpless
They abide and so uphold the American Way
Wars have seen such men they who despised things about them
but did nothing and they are the most dangerous
Dangerous because their intelligence is not denied
and so give faith to the young
who rightfully believe in their intelligence
Smoke this cigarette doctors smoke this cigarette
and doctors know
Educators know but they dare not speak their know
The victory that is man is made sad in this fix
Youth can only know the victory of being born
all else is stemmed until death be the final victory
and a merciful one at that
If America falls it will be the blame of its educators
preachers communicators alike
America today is America's greatest threat
We are old when we are young
America is always new the world is always new
The meaning of the world is birth not death
Growth gone in the wrong direction
The true direction grows ever young
In this direction what grows grows old
A strange mistake a strange and sad mistake
for it has grown into an old thing
while all else around it is new
Rockets will not make it any younger—
And what made America decide to grow?
I do not know I can only hold it to the strangeness in man
And America has grown into the American Way—
To be young is to be ever purposeful limitless
To grow is to know limit purposelessness
Each age is a new age
How outrageous it is that something old and sad
from the pre-age incorporates each new age—
Do I say the Declaration of Independence is old?
Yes I say what was good for 1789 is not good for 1960
It was right and new to say all men were created equal
because it was a light then
But today it is tragic to say it
today it should be fact—
Man has been on earth a long time
One would think with his mania for growth
he would, by now, have outgrown such things as
constitutions manifestos codes commandments
that he could well live in the world without them
and know instinctively how to live and be
—for what is being but the facility to love?
Was not that the true goal of growth, love?
Was not that Christ?
But man is strange and grows where he will
and chalks it all up to Fate whatever be—
America rings with such strangeness
It has grown into something strange and
the American is good example of this mad growth
The boy man big baby meat
as though the womb were turned backwards
giving birth to an old man
The victory that is man does not allow man
to top off his empirical achievement with death
The Aztecs did it by yanking out young hearts
at the height of their power
The Americans are doing it by feeding their young to the
Way
For it was not the Spaniard who killed the Aztec
but the Aztec who killed the Aztec
Rome is proof Greece is proof all history is proof
Victory does not allow degeneracy
It will not be the Communists will kill America
no but America itself—
The American Way that sad mad process
is not run by any one man or organization
It is a monster born of itself existing of its self
The men who are employed by this monster
are employed unknowingly
They reside in the higher echelons of intelligence
They are the educators the psychiatrists the ministers
the writers the politicians the communicators
the rich the entertainment world
And some follow and sing the Way because they sincerely
believe it to be good
And some believe it holy and become minutemen in it
Some are in it simply to be in
And most are in it for gold
They do not see the Way as monster
They see it as the "Good Life"
What is the Way?
The Way was born out of the American Dream a
nightmare—
The state of Americans today compared to the Americans
of the 18th century proves the nightmare—
Not Franklin not Jefferson who speaks for America today
but strange red-necked men of industry
and the goofs of show business
Bizarre! Frightening! The Mickey Mouse sits on the throne
and Hollywood has a vast supply—
Could grammar school youth seriously look upon
a picture of George Washington and "Herman Borst"
the famous night club comedian together at Valley
Forge?
Old old and decadent gone the dignity
the American sun seems headed for the grave
O that youth might raise it anewl
The future depends solely on the young
The future is the property of the young
What the young know the future will know
What they are and do the future will be and do
What has been done must not be done again
Will the American Way allow this?
No.
I see in every American Express
and in every army center in Europe
I see the same face the same sound of voice
the same clothes the same walk
I see mothers & fathers no
difference among them
Replicas
They not only speak and walk and think alike
they have the same facel
What did this monstrous thing?
What regiments a people so?
How strange is nature's play on America
Surely were Lincoln alive today
he could never be voted President not with his
looks—
Indeed Americans are babies all in the embrace
of Mama Way
Did not Ike, when he visited the American Embassy in
Paris a year ago, say to the staff—"Everything is fine, just drink
Coca Cola, and everything will be all right."
This is true, and is on record
Did not American advertising call for TOGETHERNESS?
not orgiasticly like today's call
nor as means to stem violence
This is true, and is on record.
Are not the army centers in Europe ghettos?
They are, and O how sad how lost!
The PX newsstands are filled with comic books
The army movies are always Doris Day
What makes a people huddle so?
Why can't they be universal?
Who has smelled them so?
This is serious! I do not mock or hate this
I can only sense some mad vast conspiracy!
Helplessness is all it is!
They are caught caught in the Way—
And those who seek to get out of the Way
can not
The Beats are good example of this
They forsake the Way's habits
and acquire for themselves their own habits
And they become as distinct and regimented and lost
as the main flow
because the Way has many outlets
like a snake of many tentacles—
There is no getting out of the Way
The only way out is the death of the Way
And what will kill the Way but a new consciousness
Something great and new and wonderful must happen
to free man from this beast
It is a beast we can not see or even understand
For it be the condition of our minds
God how close to science fiction it all seemsl
As if some power from another planet
incorporated itself in the minds of us all
It could well bel
For as I live I swear America does not seem like America
to me
Americans are a great people
I ask for some great and wondrous event
that will free them from the Way
and make them a glorious purposeful people once
again
I do not know if that event is due deserved
or even possible
I can only hold that man is the victory of life
And I hold firm to American man
I see standing on the skin of the Way
America to be as proud and victorious as St.
Michael on the neck of the fallen Lucifer—
I heartily recommend the following Coleridge and Corso books
(all available through my Amazon bookstore)
Previous A to Z poetry installments include:
A is for Apollinaire (my favorite poets from A to Z - volume 1)
B is for Baudelaire (my favorite poets from A to Z - volume 2)
For online biographies of Coleridge and Corso, check out these links:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Samuel_Taylor_Coleridge
http://www.online-literature.com/coleridge/
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gregory_Corso
http://www.beatmuseum.org/corso/gregorycorso.html
Wow.. this is a long one... I'll be back to leave a real comment. I have a lot to say.... but you've just given me a lot to digest here John... so need to think.
Reply to this
Cool... I tried not to make it so long - but as it is, I feel I needed to add more to do both poets justice.
I always look forward to your comments.
Reply to this
hmmm...
i've printed out the longer poems to read and get a better handle on.
i've read the shorter corso piece "spirit" about 5 times and can't get this bit of song from the band spirit out of my head:
You have the world at your fingertips
No one can make it better than you
You have the world at your fingertips
But see what you've done to the rain and the sun
So many changes have all just begun, to reap
I know you're asleep
Wake Up
Reply to this
now that i've read all of "the american way" i think the bit of song i used in the comment i'm tagging onto, seems to fit both well.
the 2nd one is almost a manifesto to me.
Reply to this
ok, i've just read kubla kahn twice and need to read it some more.
Reply to this
Thanks, mb! The Spirit song does fit and even tie together both Corso poems.
The first two things that popped into my eyes was the mantra (at least that's how I think of it) "Open Your Eyes!" from Vanilla Sky and the song "When You Gonna Wake Up" by Bob Dylan:
"You got innocent men in jail, your insane asylums are filled,
You got unrighteous doctors dealing drugs that'll never cure your ills.
When you gonna wake up, when you gonna wake up
When you gonna wake up and strengthen the things that remain?"
That in turn reminded me that Dylan was alluding to a line from the third chapter of Revelation:
"Wake up, and strengthen the things that remain, which are about to die; for I have not found your deeds perfect in the sight of God."
Reply to this
Wow. Oh. My. God. Corso. Where has this poet been all my life? The Minister thinks he's in love...
"What makes a people huddle so?
Why can't they be universal?"
Wow. The Minister will be saving his shekels so he can order those Corso books....
Reply to this
I'm glad you like him. I tried in the two Corso poems to show how diverse his work could be - two ends of the spectrum in every way. But they still don't do him justice. I would have needed to make this blog much longer or infringe on copyrights to do so. I selected two poems I like and that were already online elsewhere - but his even better work isn't, which led to my book recommendations at the end. I feel less guilty about posting a sample of someone's copyrighted work if it's already freely available in several places online and if I promote the sale of the writer's work. But I feel less comfortable adding new poems to the "public domain" without permission.
In Coleridge's case, since he wrote in the 19th century, all his work is in the public domain already. Unfortunately, if I had posted my favorite poem by him, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, this blog would be twice as long as it is. But you can read the entire Rime for free at the University of Virginia site: http://etext.lib.virginia.edu/stc/Coleridge/poems/Rime_Ancient_Mariner.html
Reply to this
one has poetry, one has content. please sir, can i have both in one?
Reply to this
smith, i'm curious to know which is which for you and why.
Reply to this
I think I feel where you're coming from, Smith. "The American Way," while to a large degree brilliant and true, does not really show off the poeticism of some of Corso's other work. Check out this section from his "Elegiac Feelings American":
"'What happened to him?' 'What happened to you?' Death happened him; a gypped life happened; a God gone sick happened; a dream nightmared; a youth armied; an army massacred; the father wants to eat the son, the son feeds his stone, but the father no get stoned."
That poem is more successful in marrying "poetry" and "content." Unfortunately, I could not easily find my copy of that book and the poem was not available already online, or I might have used it instead.
Then again, I think "The American Way" goes well with "Kubla Khan." I agree with you that the Corso poem could be more "poetic" (it reminds me of something Whitman might have written if he were in his 20s in the 1960's - which ties in to my response to your latest blog ). But I tend to disagree that "Kubla Khan" is lacking in content. To me, it shares the same anti-establishment content as "The American Way," albeit in a more "stately pleasure-dome" of a package.
In a way we can compare Kublai Khan, who founded China's Yuan dynasty, to President Bush. He essentially stole the title and position of Great Khan from his brother Arik, who had been the first choice of those who had a "vote." Kublai was a warmonger - starting all sorts of unprovoked conflicts and even trying twice (unsuccessfully) to subjugate Japan (which one might think of as Kublai's Vietnam and Iraq). He made a great show of "compassion" and "conservatism" - but at the same time, raised government spending greatly, persecuted the Taoists, and curtailed the rights of the Han Chinese and others. And though Kublai liked to portray himself as a unifier, he was quite divisive.
Coleridge, while seemingly extolling the greatness of "Kubla Khan," also exposes the illusion of it by hinting at Xanadu's dark, cruel, "savage" underbelly:
But oh ! that deep romantic chasm which slanted
Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover !
A savage place ! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover !
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced....
Coleridge (around the year 1819) is using the Mongol Kubla as a metaphor for his fellow Englishmen, who at the time were extolling their own "greatness" - who had their own "stately" palaces (pleasure-domes) and considered themselves imminently civilized while maintaining a "savage" grip on their colonies (on people unlike them) all over the world. Being less "metaphorical" might have cost him his life and/or liberty at the hands of the powers-that-be (who had just tried to re-conquer America in the War of 1812) . Coleridge says about the Kublai Khans of the world (including English monarchs and future U.S. presidents):
[We] all should cry, Beware ! Beware !
His flashing eyes, his floating hair !
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
Beware of the man who's "drunk the milk of Paradise" and convinced himself that he's imbibed a holy calling - to wage war on a wicked whim and exercise godlike power over gullible people. The Khan/King's philosophy: captivate the masses with the illusion of "their" State's supposed stateliness ("We're the greatest, most powerful nation in the world!") - so they'll happily stay subjects and slaves, sacrificing themselves, and sanctioning - or at least accepting as necessary (for national security?) - your sinful streamlining of human rights and your subjugation of other nations.
Reply to this
love those modern poets. glad people evolved in the last century to start writing what's actually in their heads rather than some kinda idealized romanticised vision. corso much preferable to me than old elaborate gothic cathedral filigree poems. truth better and stranger than fiction. & yes, I agree, the best poets are local. makes so much difference to hear a poet in person; kinda like hearing live jazz. a recording of jazz or a poem on a page is analogous to a pressed butterfly. Much better alive.
Reply to this
lady, i agree with you about the older vs the newer. i find the newer perhaps easier to understand at first read, but then i get a lot out of the older as well. i like the somewhat dreamlike quality the older pieces frequently seem to have.
Reply to this
Oooh... I love your analogy of the pressed butterfly, Lady! I think a reason a lot of my old poetry seems so awkward (especially some stuff I don't make public) is because at the time, my primary (only) experience with poetry was in books and with older "dead" poets. Fascinating for a while... but books can only take one so far. Perhaps that had something to do with why I largely abandoned poetry and focused on music for my last several years in prison and first years of "freedom." Music seemed more alive to me. Recently, though, through meeting folks like you and Smith and through discovering some of the local scene, poetry is feeling more alive to me (and I more alive to it!).
Thank you!
Reply to this
this is wonderful stuff
eye was not in prison but BEAT
a BEAT poet
this could describe me
and sobering from the DRUNK eye was
could make me write like the other C poet hahahhaha eye just realized the C is for CHARLAX
Reply to this
Thanks, friend!
I like the multiple connotations of the word BEAT in "Beat poet."
walking the "beat"
"beat" down
up "beat"
"beat" like eggs
on the first and third "beat"
"beat" it
I'm "beat"
And you're a C too!
Reply to this
http://storypen.com/cgi-bin/index.pl?poemnumber=378817&sitename=charlax&password=&poemoffset=120&displaypoem=t&item=story
copy and past this in your searchbox
beat the clock
beat all to heck
beat around the bush
beat the heat
eye beat its endless
hahahah
Reply to this
my URL is rather too long so you can deleted it after you promise to read it just a link its all
it is to a poem
eye tried too hard to beat it
AHHAHAHAAA
Reply to this
It's cool, man!
Keep beatin' that drum!
Reply to this
I love Gregory Corso, and The Mad Yak is my favorite of his. I also like Humanity.
Oh, and Marriage! Yes, he is one of my very favorites. He writes so "real", so interesting, you can see it in your mind. The imagery is awesome, or I think so.
Reply to this
I could say awesome, cool, rocks etc. but I will say this: It is great to wake up on a rainy morning and read Coleridge again since I like the romanticism of Kubla Khan even if it were inspired by an Opium dream. But I must add that Corso expresses in his long poem so much that is true about the
"American Way" that holds true even for today in religion, politics, government and business. He is remarkable in his insights. Your blogs are so interesting
for their amazing ability to interest all of us and teach us things we need to learn about poetry, both older and modern. And the comments get even more interesting as time goes by. Everyone should read the Wikipedia since it informs us of what we have either not known or have forgotten.
Reply to this
Thanks, Elena!
I always appreciate your response - and I'm always awed by the quality of comments on these posts.
Reply to this
Thanks, Susan!
I don't remember having read "Humanity" before - will have to look it up.
I love his "Marriage," though. I seriously considered using it instead of "The American Way." Maybe I'll just post it here in this comment!
'Marriage' by Gregory Corso:
Should I get married? Should I be good?
Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustus hood?
Don't take her to movies but to cemeteries
tell all about werewolf bathtubs and forked clarinets
then desire her and kiss her and all the preliminaries
and she going just so far and I understanding why
not getting angry saying You must feel! It's beautiful to feel!
Instead take her in my arms lean against an old crooked tombstone
and woo her the entire night the constellations in the sky-
When she introduces me to her parents
back straightened, hair finally combed, strangled by a tie,
should I sit with my knees together on their 3rd degree sofa
and not ask Where's the bathroom?
How else to feel other than I am,
often thinking Flash Gordon soap-
O how terrible it must be for a young man
seated before a family and the family thinking
We never saw him before! He wants our Mary Lou!
After tea and homemade cookies they ask What do you do for a living?
Should I tell them? Would they like me then?
Say All right get married, we're losing a daughter
but we're gaining a son-
And should I then ask Where's the bathroom?
O God, and the wedding! All her family and her friends
and only a handful of mine all scroungy and bearded
just wait to get at the drinks and food-
And the priest! he looking at me as if I masturbated
asking me Do you take this woman for your lawful wedded wife?
And I trembling what to say say Pie Glue!
I kiss the bride all those corny men slapping me on the back
She's all yours, boy! Ha-ha-ha!
And in their eyes you could see some obscene honeymoon going on-
Then all that absurd rice and clanky cans and shoes
Niagara Falls! Hordes of us! Husbands! Wives! Flowers! Chocolates!
All streaming into cozy hotels
All going to do the same thing tonight
The indifferent clerk he knowing what was going to happen
The lobby zombies they knowing what
The whistling elevator man he knowing
Everybody knowing! I'd almost be inclined not to do anything!
Stay up all night! Stare that hotel clerk in the eye!
Screaming: I deny honeymoon! I deny honeymoon!
running rampant into those almost climactic suites
yelling Radio belly! Cat shovel!
O I'd live in Niagara forever! in a dark cave beneath the Falls
I'd sit there the Mad Honeymooner
devising ways to break marriages, a scourge of bigamy
a saint of divorce-
But I should get married I should be good
How nice it'd be to come home to her
and sit by the fireplace and she in the kitchen
aproned young and lovely wanting my baby
and so happy about me she burns the roast beef
and comes crying to me and I get up from my big papa chair
saying Christmas teeth! Radiant brains! Apple deaf!
God what a husband I'd make! Yes, I should get married!
So much to do! Like sneaking into Mr Jones' house late at night
and cover his golf clubs with 1920 Norwegian books
Like hanging a picture of Rimbaud on the lawnmower
like pasting Tannu Tuva postage stamps all over the picket fence
like when Mrs Kindhead comes to collect for the Community Chest
grab her and tell her There are unfavorable omens in the sky!
And when the mayor comes to get my vote tell him
When are you going to stop people killing whales!
And when the milkman comes leave him a note in the bottle
Penguin dust, bring me penguin dust, I want penguin dust-
Yes if I should get married and it's Connecticut and snow
and she gives birth to a child and I am sleepless, worn,
up for nights, head bowed against a quiet window, the past behind me,
finding myself in the most common of situations a trembling man
knowledged with responsibility not twig-smear nor Roman coin soup-
O what would that be like!
Surely I'd give it for a nipple a rubber Tacitus
For a rattle a bag of broken Bach records
Tack Della Francesca all over its crib
Sew the Greek alphabet on its bib
And build for its playpen a roofless Parthenon
No, I doubt I'd be that kind of father
Not rural not snow no quiet window
but hot smelly tight New York City
seven flights up, roaches and rats in the walls
a fat Reichian wife screeching over potatoes Get a job!
And five nose running brats in love with Batman
And the neighbors all toothless and dry haired
like those hag masses of the 18th century
all wanting to come in and watch TV
The landlord wants his rent
Grocery store Blue Cross Gas & Electric Knights of Columbus
impossible to lie back and dream Telephone snow, ghost parking-
No! I should not get married! I should never get married!
But-imagine if I were married to a beautiful sophisticated woman
tall and pale wearing an elegant black dress and long black gloves
holding a cigarette holder in one hand and a highball in the other
and we lived high up in a penthouse with a huge window
from which we could see all of New York and even farther on clearer days
No, can't imagine myself married to that pleasant prison dream-
O but what about love? I forget love
not that I am incapable of love
It's just that I see love as odd as wearing shoes-
I never wanted to marry a girl who was like my mother
And Ingrid Bergman was always impossible
And there's maybe a girl now but she's already married
And I don't like men and-
But there's got to be somebody!
Because what if I'm 60 years old and not married,
all alone in a furnished room with pee stains on my underwear
and everybody else is married! All the universe married but me!
Ah, yet well I know that were a woman possible as I am possible
then marriage would be possible-
Like SHE in her lonely alien gaud waiting her Egyptian lover
so i wait-bereft of 2,000 years and the bath of life.
Reply to this
Eating Poetry (excerpt)
by Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees...
...She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
That's how Gregory Corso's poetry makes me feel! Sorry, Mr. Coleridge, but Corso rules!
Reply to this
This rocks! Will have to check out more of Strand's work when time permits.
Reply to this
For your convenience, my lord Crisis, "Eating Poetry" in its entirety:
Eating Poetry
by Mark Strand
Ink runs from the corners of my mouth.
There is no happiness like mine.
I have been eating poetry.
The librarian does not believe what she sees.
Her eyes are sad
and she walks with her hands in her dress.
The poems are gone.
The light is dim.
The dogs are on the basement stairs and coming up.
Their eyeballs roll,
their blond legs burn like brush.
The poor librarian begins to stamp her feet and weep.
She does not understand.
When I get on my knees and lick her hand,
she screams.
I am a new man,
I snarl at her and bark,
I romp with joy in the bookish dark.
It is one of The Minister's personal favorites...
Reply to this
Very cool.... thank you!
Reply to this
This is awesome...I am not familiar with Strand...I'm going to go look him up! Thanks!
Reply to this
Well these comments are made without having had a chance to read everything else everyone else has shared… but merely on the offerings you’ve chosen to share John.
As I’ve said before I’m not that familiar with poetry but am learning…. slowly. And am taken by the contrast you’ve presented here between Coleridge and Corso. Neither of which I’m familiar with.
Interesting that one is from the romantic period the other from the beat movement. The romantics probably being the “beat” poets of their era I assume.
One being mostly about outer imagery and the other more about inner landscapes… I like the contrasts between the two.
Corso’s personal history is very interesting…. Having been imprisoned wrongfully, having a mafia mentor, etc… I assume it strongly colored his world view… as personal challenges always do.
I like that you’ve shared the “Spirit” poem which was used as his epitaph. Because it seems to contrast with the “The AmericanWay” by being so very non-cynical.
Anyway, thanks for sharing these… I’m learning a lot from you doing this…. it’s making me have to work… Thanks.
Now I’m going to go back and read everyone else’s fine comments and observations. And may say something else later.
Do like that you posted the"Marriage " poem... liked it when I read it on-line.
Reply to this
Thank you, Chris!
Your comments are always cool and crisp.
Flavorful and right on point....
Reply to this
Here are some comments this blog entry has received after being reposted on MySpace:
hunh. i have cleveland poetry scenes right here next to me.
Posted by Liz on June 12, 2008 - Thursday at 12:58 PM
Wow! C is for Cleveland!
Thanks, Liz!
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 12, 2008 - Thursday
I was just reading Chaucer too *laughs* I remember having to memorize Kubla Khan - I think it still echoes around in my brain once in awhile =) I have recently gotten my writing muse back so this was a lovely post to find waiting for it =)
Enjoy the weekend my friend
Posted by Christy's World on June 12, 2008 - Thursday
Thank you so much, Christy!
Hope you enjoy your weekend as well....
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 12, 2008 - Thursday
Man you are blogger extraordinaire! (Thinking I spelled that wrong, oh well) I love some of Coleridge's lines but not a fan on the rhyming poetry. Wish I could deal with it cuz some of the old masters were fabulous. I hadn't heard of Corso. His Spirit poem is amazing. Thanks for sharing some great poetry John.
Posted by What's in a Name? on June 13, 2008
Thank you! I very much appreciate your response and kind words.
And if I'm not mistaken, you spelled it perfectly!
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 13, 2008 - Friday
I was up at the Salton Sea for an environmental research grant a while back and Coleridge's words popped into my head...
Water, water every where, Nor a drop to drink!
Funny how these things come to you at weird moments...his rhymes are very inventive- I simply stink at it myself. To master the rhyme and make it look elegant is an art...mine always end up looking like fatal attempts at Dr. Seuss...or a dirty limerick lol
And Corso! I am so surprised- a lot of people don't know him!
Love this:
"...frankensteining Christ..."
I read it and it has so many deeper interpretations...our culture has really created this haven't they? Great imagery...I'll have you know that I will resist the obvious juvenile temptation to post the Zombie Jesus but it's killing me not to lol
Great selections!
Posted by Savage Science is magnifying Isis! on June 14, 2008 - Saturday
Thank you, Tracy! And "frankensteining Christ" is one of my favorite phrases as well.
I very much enjoy your comment and the image you included.
Oh... and what's wrong with dirty limericks? (lol)
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 18, 2008 - Wednesday
So many points he made that are true. I seen them with 15 years in the Army. Us NCO would collect money for soldiers. The new soldiers couldn't feel their familys. Thank for the advice to read these powerful writers.
John(COYOTE)
Posted by John (Coyote) on June 23, 2008 - Monday
Thank you, John, for stopping by, reading and sharing your experiences. How the veterans were "treated" at Walter Reed hospital also comes to mind. Shameful....
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 23, 2008
beautiful blog; need to come here again; The whole thing; your views and the things you write are interesting and the music goes perfectly with it. Jesus Crisis thanks
Posted by Halkios on June 30, 2008 - Monday 1:15 PM
[ Remove ] [ Reply to this ]
Thank you so much, Halkios!
Peace....
Posted by Jesus Crisis on June 30, 2008 - Monday 2:04 PM
Reply to this
These poems are way too dark and way too scary for me. I'm sure that's what's good about them but I walk too much on the dark side already. If there is a way to study poetry without injecting personal experience I have not mastered it.
Reply to this
Perhaps, Tara, the fact that you can't read it without injecting personal experience proves that you have, in an important sense, mastered the study of poetry!
Reply to this
I admit, I have not been on this webpage in a long time... however it was another joy to see It is such an important topic and ignored by so many, even
professionals. I thank you to help making people more aware of possible issues.
Great stuff as usual.
Reply to this
I will read time to time that
Reply to this
Thanks for your support and informative post.
Reply to this
This is a very helpful post,I hope this really helps me to complete my project.
Reply to this
Hi, The topic that you have discussed in the post is really amazing, I think now I have a strong hold over the topic after going through the post. I will surely come back for more information.
Reply to this