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Friday Weekly Round-Up - 118

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An early draft of a segment of Allen's classic written-under-the-influence-of-LSD poem, Wales Visitation, goes up for auction next month in London at Bonhamsauction house, part of the Roy Davids Collection, alongside countless other "poetical manuscripts and portraits of poets" (there's also, for sale, a rare shot of the poet taken with veteran English poet, Basil Buntingthe sale price for that is between £350 and £400). The manuscript is expected to fetch something between £800 and £1,000 (between (approximately) $1200 and $1500).    


xxx


Wales Visitation - American viewers will remember this classic rendition of it, in 1968, on the William Buckley Firing Line show



Plutonian Ode and the 1978 anti-nuclear demonstrations (and arrests!) at Rocky Flats, Colorado's infamous demonic "bomb trigger facility". The facility was closed down in 1992 (had halted bomb-component production two years earlier) and was swiftly transformed, in 2007, into the Rocky Flats National Wildlife Refuge (a little too cavalierly, a little too hastily - original plans estimated that it would take 70 years and $30 billion to "clean up" the pollution on the site, but the DOE (Department of Energy) accelerated those plans.). The malevolent after-life of plutonian that Allen so prophetically warned against - ("Manzano Mountain boasts to store/ its dreadful decay through two hundred and forty millennia..") - There is still an urgent need to protest. Please read Marcella MacDonald's considered and rational petition regarding recent developments, and add your name to the signatories here.

Hannah Gamble over on the Poetry Foundation's Harriet site has been doing some useful compiling in anticipation of the forthcoming Collected Poems by Philip Lamantia(yes, that long-awaited collection will be coming out from the University of California this summer) - including a trenchant note from Allen, from 1963 in Poetry magazine (see the direct link). Our postings on Lamantia can be usefully read here and here.   

We wrote here last week of Ronald Collins (and David Skover's) new book, Mania. Footage of last week's Strand Bookstore event celebrating the book (consisting of Collins reading from the opening pages and then sitting down with Kerouac scholar and New York Times journalist, John Leland to discuss Beat culture and its profound First Amendment impact, followed by a brief Q-and-A with the audience) may be found here.  Collins is also interviewed by Gene Policinski here.  

Moran Haynal's Haggadah - at the Janusz Korczak Academy in Munich, Germany. Another (perhaps?) unlikely Ginsberg sighting?  





Allen Ginsberg - Allen's Haiku 2

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Last week's postings of Allen's haiku (from "(21) Haiku composed in the backyard cottage at 1624 Milvia Street, Berkeley, 1955, while reading R.H.Blyth's 4 volumes, Haiku"met with sufficiently enthusiastic response to embolden us to post more - these, more recent experiments from 1973 and 1975 (published in 1978's Mostly Sitting Haiku):

Mountain wind slow as breath,/mist drifts over pines -/ I've sat twenty days on this same pillow!

Meditation hall silent/ bird slammed into window/ sat brooding half an hour/ Saw Buddha then.

Fog rolling down/ the nountain/ the tram lift towers/above leafless aspen/Clouds part and blue sky shows.

A mountain outside/a room inside/a skull above/Snow on the mountain/flowers in the room/thoughts in the skull.

Snow mountain fields/ seen thru transparent wings/ of a fly on the windowpane.

Use breath as Manjusri/ Sword instantly cutting/ down thought after thought/heaviness of sleep dream/ fantasy, breath after breath/ outward.

(Graffiti in Teton Village) - "If you voted for Nixon/You won't shit here/Cause your asshole's in/ Washington."

(from Chogyam Trungpa's Crazy Wisdom Lectures - Observations Mixed With Trungpa Quotes) - "In the realm of Great Bliss" / Bark,/Bow Wow!
"No hope No fear"/ Pens rustle on paper -/ Steinbeck is coughing.
"Discipline, real Discipline"/ Yellow carnations open/under flood lamps in the tent.
"Talk stand shit"/ eat sleep -/ Flies walking on my nose.
"Good at the beginning.."/ tears roll down/ my palsied right cheek.
"You're not going to get your money back"/ Everybody laughing - / "Any questions?"
"Willing to be Fool?"/ Night moths/ circle the tent pole.
"Emptiness, no need for policy-maker.."/ Secretaries lean together/ at the tent wall.
"What do we mean by Craziness?"/ Dogs bark to each other/ across the meadow at night.
Against brown grass/ the hole in a black truck tire/ swings slowly between trees.
Sunlight mixed with dust/ rises behind a truck/ on the dirt road.
Rows of sitting heads -/ blue windows, car/parked silent on grass.

and
(from Cabin In The Rockies)
Sitting on a stump with half cup of tea,/ sun down behind mountains -/ Nothing to do.

Not a word! Not a word!/ Flies do all my talking for me -/ and the wind says something else.

Fly on my nose/ I'm not the Buddha/ There's no enlightenment here.

Against red bark truck/ A fly's shadow/ lights on the shadow of a pine bough.

White sun up behind pines,/ a moth flutters past/ the brown wood pile.

An hour after dawn/ I haven't thought of Buddha once yet!/ - walking back into the retreat house.

(Walking into King Sooper after Two-Week Retreat) - A thin red-faced pimpled boy/ stands alone minutes/looking into the ice cream bin.


(Park Avenue, Paterson - 2 a.m.) - A red sweater/ crumpled on lawn grass/ under bright streetlights -/ across the street from Louis' hospital.

The withered purple roses droop/ on their green dry-leafed stalks/ father dying Cancered in the bedroom.

and, five from 1976:
I thought my mother was dead and/lamented her/surrounded by billions of mothers/ cows grass-blades and girlfriends' eyes. 

Buddha died and/ left behind a/ big emptiness.

Candle-light blue banners incense,/ aching knee, hungry mouth -/ any minute the gong - potatoes &/ sour cream!

Sunlight on the red zafu/ clank of forks and plates -/ I used to sit like this years ago.

Did you ever see yourself/a breathing skull/looking out the eyes?

Here's a recording of Allen reading - more haiku

For related syllabic experiments - see, (amongst other works), "136 Syllables At Rocky Mountain Dharma Center" and "American Sentences".  

Ferlinghetti's 94th Birthday

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Lawrence Ferlinghetti turns 94 today - Happy Birthday, Lawrence!  - Chris Felver's full-length documentary, Ferlinghetti - A Rebirth of Wonder is currently going the rounds and is undoubtedly a must-see. Last year's landmark art-show - Cross-Pollination: The Art of Lawrence Ferlinghetti (at the Sonoma Valley Museum of Art) was a singular event, a major retrospective. Lawrence is interviewed about that (and about other matters) here.

Here's previous birthday-posts on the Ginsberg blog - a links-rich posting from last year, and a salutation from 2011 (including a link to him speaking on the occasion of the 50th anniversary of the City Lights bookstore) - also 2010's birthday-posting (which includes vintage notes from Kenneth Rexroth on Ferlinghetti).


His City Lights page (ah! City Lights, what an extraordinary achievement!) is here

Time of Useful Consciousness is his latest book (hear him discuss it with Michael Silverblatt - here and read David Melzer's illuminating interview with him about it here). 



Written In My Dream...

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Allen Ginsberg reads his poem, "Written In My Dream by William Carlos Williams" (included in the collection White Shroud - Poems 1980-1985) in September 1993 at the University of Vienna. Video text animation is by Niklaus Lesnik. The poem also appears on Holy Soul Jelly Roll (recently re-released byGinsberg Recordings) - Volume 4: Ashes & Blues.

Album cover for Holy Soul Jelly Roll, Volume 4: Ashes & Blues

"I hear voices". There was, of course, the hallucinatory voice of Blake in '47, providing him, among other things, with his Blake melodies - Allen discusses that incident here
Kubla Khan?"Channeling"?Surrealist experimentation? - and/or, perhaps, more recently, Jack Spicer's poetics of a "Martian" dictation- but this is clearly something different, a whole poem served up in toto, verbatim, to Allen, in a dream, from his mentor, Doctor Williams - dream advice, dream counsel, dream admonition -   "No need/ to dress/ it up/ as beauty./ No need/ to distort/ what's not/ standard/ to be/ understandable".     
Useful tips

Listen to another version of the poem here 

March 26 - Gregory Corso's Birthday

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Alan Ginsberg and Gregory Corso












[Allen Ginsberg and Gregory Corso - "A Modest Portrait" - Tangier, Morocco, Spring 1961 -   Photograph by Allen Ginsberg, Copyright Allen Ginsberg Estate; Gregory Corso - "Alchemical Poem" - Alchemical Spring (Volume 9 of
the unspeakable visions of the individual), 1979, Copyright Arthur & Kit Knight); Gregory Corso, Boulder, Colorado, circa 1978 - Photograph by Cynthia MacAdams, Copyright Cyntha MacAdams; "Rarely, Rarely, Comest Thou Spirit of Delight (Portrait of Keats and Shelley)"- Gregory Corso, c.1994, (31 1/2" x 35"), oil on canvas board;  (originally collection of Allen Ginsberg);Untitled Drawing - Gregory Corso, 1991 (courtesy flickr (Paul Rickert, Rare Book Room); "Child Saturn's Flower Is Up", drawing by Gregory Corso (from the sequence of limited-edition prints, "The Saturn Family"), 1981, first published by the Parchment Gallery


Gregory Corso's birthday today.For further (extensive) Gregory postings see our quaintly-named Happy Birthday of Death posting here (that was the title of Gregory's 1960 New Directions book,by the way), included in it is a useful Corso videography, which includes Francois Bernardi's film, Original Beats (Corso and (Herbert) Huncke, in the early '90'sat the Chelsea Hotel and in downtown New York). Additional out-takes from that movie are available here  (see also below)




Not Forgetting Gregory Corso, a post from May 2011 includes links to vintage audio Corso (including audio of his free-wheeling 1975 Naropa classes). For transcripts see here, here, here, here, here, here, here and here. For arguementative cantankerous Gregory see here, here, here - and (unforgettably) here.

Here's Gregory's lucid observations on his friend, Jack Kerouac



Here's Francos Kuipers recollections of Gregory and Ah Roma.

Here's Ed Sanders' Woodstock Journal Portfolio

We wanted to focus this year (just a little) on the visual artist, Gregory. Check out this unique series of prints, commissioned and published in 1981 - "The Saturn Family" .

Here's an original (undated) collage 
    
Original Collage


Happy Birthday, Gregory!

Spontaneous Poetics - 54 (Edward Carpenter 1)

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File:Carpenter1875.jpg

[Edward Carpenter (1844-1929) c. 1875]

AG: (Now) we're on Edward Carpenter - where was I? - Edward Carpenter in relation to (Charles) Reznikoff again. (Let me read you) a Reznikoff poem by Edward Carpenter:
"A Scene in London" [from Towards Democracy (1912)] - "Both of them deaf, and close on 80 years old, she, stone blind and he nearly so, side by side crouching over a fire in a little London hovel, six shillings a week. Their joints knotted with rheumatism. Their faces all day long mute like statues of all; passing expression. No cloud flying by, no gleam of sunshine there, lips closed and silent. But for that, now and then taking his pipe out of his mouth, he puts his face close to her ear and yells just a word into it, and she nods her blind head and gives a raucous screech in answer." - The similarity of noticing and of detail between the style of Reznikoff and the style cultivated by (Walt) Whitman and his friends, is interesting. What it goes to show is that there is some common ground of humane particulars - humane eyeball - that can tell a little vignette story that sums up a lifetime, (usually in dark, unnoticed corners). There's a little longer poem, a description of St James' Park in London [also in Towards Democracy]. These are interesting. It's like time-capsules. There weren't many modernist writers of poetry in those days. Most of the poetry was very idealistic and had very little everyday detail, prosaic detail, in a sense. This reminds me a little of poems of my own in a period right after"Howl" - "Transcription of Organ Music" and "Sather Gate Illumination", which are like sketching detail in a park, in a subway, in a room, in a garden - "St. James' Park" - "An island ringed with surf, a cool green shade and tiny enchanted spot of trees and flowers and fountains, the ocean raging around it. The roar of London interminably stretching, interminably sounding. Great waves of human life breaking. Millions of drops together. Torrents of vehicles pouring. Businessmen marching. Gangs of workmen, soldiers, loafers, street hawkers. Shopkeepers running out of their shops to look at their own windows. A woman seized with birth pangs on a doorstep. Ragamuffins and children swirling by. At ease in rapids of fashion. The everlasting tide ebbing a little at night, rising again in the day, with fierce continuous roaring, yet infringing not on the little island. Here only a little spray. A dull and distant reverberation. In the soft shade a pleasant drowsy air. The willows hanging their branches to the water. The drake preening his feathers in the sun or swimming among the flags by the pondside regardless of Nelson peering over the treetops from his column, taking no note of the great clock face of Westminster. Only a little spray, broken water, drop by drop, one by one, or here and there in twos, specimens, items out of the deep. The bakersman, working fifteen hours a day, leaves his handcart in a convenient spot outside and puts in a quiet quarter of an hour here with a novel. The old woman, her thumb gathered and disabled by incessant work on crepe now, as a matter of course, thrown out of employ, goes along moaning and muttering to herself. The prissy old gentleman who's made his money out of the moving warehouse also goes along. The footman on an errand walks leisurely by. The French nurse plays with the little English children. The rather elegant lady meets her man by appointment at one of the garden sheets. They study Bradshaw together in an undertone, revolving plans. The middle-aged widower comes along, thin, so thin, dressed all in black, seeing nothing, hearing nothing, sitting down for a moment then up again, resting only in constant movement. The tramp, with dead expressionless face, the man who is not wanted, to whom everyone says "No" comes along and throws himself down listlessly under the trees. Only a little spray, broken water. The summer sun falls peaceful on the grass. The tide of traffic rises a little during the day and ebbs again at night but the great roaring bates not, breaks the surf of human life forever on this shore." - That's a funny mixture. You've got the Whitmanic roar of London, a little bit of  (William) Blake roar of London, a little bit of  (William) Wordsworth's Westminster Bridge, London silence, and then more modern, almost 20th century clear consciousness, humorous description of fantastical detail.

Student: Like (Charles) Dickens.

AG: Yeah. Of course, in prose, it's always been there. It's just that when that prose detail begins to enter poetry in the 20th century, (it makes) interesting poetry, as far as the eyeball, as far as common sense. Yeah, it's in prose all along (and, actually, it's in (Robert) Browning- there's quite a bit of everyday matter in Browning). 

Spontaneous Poetics - 55 (Edward Carpenter 2)

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[Edward Carpenter (1824-1929)]

AG: A poem (by Edward Carpenter) that I've always liked is "From Turin to Paris"[in Towards Democracy] He's riding in the train from Italy to Paris and it's a long detailed description of the entire train trip. I got turned on to that kind of travel-detail poetry by a book that Kenneth Patchen lent me called "Voyage Trans-Siberian" ["The Prose of the Trans-Siberian" in Ron Padgett's translation]  by Blaise Cendrars(which was translated by John Dos Passos in the (19)20's, actually  - an odd combination). It's a travel diary poem, a poem travel diary, which is a whole genre which I've used a lot. I published a book called Iron Horse, which is the account of a 40-hour train trip (from) Oakland to Chicago (and then from) Chicago to New York by bus. Yeah?

Student: I've seen that book. Why did you do it with that kind of 3-D, kind of...

AG: I didn't do that. That was printed up in Canada by a bunch of real hip printers [the Coach House Press] (who) made a very beautiful job out of it. Actually, if you flip the pages of the book, the train moves and recedes, comes up and goes in the distance.

Student: What was the name of that book that you just mentioned, I mean, the name of the poet?

AG: Oh, ok. Blaise Cendrars - C-E-N-D-R-A-R-S. "Voyage Trans-Siberian". Trans-Siberian Voyage. God knows where you find it now.  [in 1993, University of California Press published Ron Padgett's translation of Blaise Cendrars' Complete Poems]

Student: There's a Selected Works of Cendrars out in New Directions.

AG: Yeah.

Student: I think that poem's in it.

AG: Ah!  Then also one of the St Marks' (Poetry Project)mimeo presses [Adventures In Poetry] has printed up a whole book called Kodak by (Blaise) Cendrars, translated by Ron Padgett, which I've put in the library. If you want to taste Cendrars. It's like little Kodak snapshots - Kodak. Around-the-world Kodak snapshots (again, travel poems). Check that out in relaton to this or what I've been talking about (the Cendrars' "Trans-Siberian", or travel photography)


[Blaise Cendrars (1887-1961]

The reason I find (Edward) Carpenter interesting is that it's this 19th Century version of later 20th Century Imagism, or Surrealist Imagism. It's got roots (its) in (Walt) Whitman and then it gets more condensed and exact when you get up to the Surrealistsand later to the American Objectivists. Here it's more prosy, but full of detail. It's the weirdness of the detail that comes up. 

[Allen begins reading Edward Carpenter's "From Turin to Paris", beginning with Part 1 in its entirety - "Tireless, hour after hour, over mountains, plains and/ rivers/ The express train rushes on..." through to "And still the train rushes on, and the fields fly past/ and the vineyards"] - Part 2 is a landscape description. Part 3, more landscape description, ending, speaking of the train, "It flies - rolls like a terror-stricken thing down the great/slopes into the darkness - and night falls in the valleys".

Student: Is Carpenter British by birth or American?

AG: He was British. Carpenter was British by birth. Part 4 [Allen continues with the poem, reading part 4 in its entirety - "Here too then also, and without fail, as everywhere/else/ The same old human face looking forth.."..."And the inhabitants of opposite hemispheres exchange/glances with one another for a moment" - and the concluding section, section 5  - "The night wears on - and yet the same steady on/ward speed..."..."The rising of the sun, for a new day - the great red/ ball so bold rising unblemished on all the heartache and/suffering, the plans, the schemes, the hopes, the desires, the/despairs of millions. -/  And the glitter and the roar already and/ the life of Paris."] - There's really nice little vignettes here and there. Odd but genuine Whitmanic afflatus, that Whitmanic universal.

Student: You spoke about.. you used the word "prosy" in a somewhat negative way. Would you say something more about that (that happens to be my offense!)  

AG: "Somewhat" - not "too". I didn't mean it too negative. I forgot, how did I use it?

Student: You were saying it was somewhat, his description was somewhat, prosy.

AG: Yeah, a little bit. There's a lot of generalization in it.By "prosy"- I used it wrongly, I meant it isn't real crystal-clear sharp, line by line by line (like (William Carlos) Williams, or, more or less so, like (Charles) Reznikoff). There's a lot of philosophy introduced (though the philosophy seems to be based on some kind of direct perception that's pretty fundamental -  of the rising of the dawn and the moving of the planets and "the despair of millions") - There's some sort of genuineness about it. I think that was the (sense of the) word that I used in relation to (the) general -  "afflatus" (like in lifting a spirit, or expansion of spirit, like in Whitman, by whom he was influenced)  

Student: There's something about the rhythm that isn't.. I mean.. I was wondering whether you were saying something about the rhythm being a little more prosy.

AG: No, no. It's actually quite an elevated poetic rhythm. It's not as realistic as Reznikoff or Williams. The breath impulse is romantic(al) like in Whitman. It's still a hang-over of the divine abstraction of(Percy Bysshe) Shelley and Hart Crane, sort of. Yeah?

Student: When was it written? 

AG: I guess around 1890, 1900, 1910 maybe? I think this book was published in 1908, so this is probably late 19th Century. I don't know when it was first writ.   

Student: When was he first around?

AG: Well, let's see...somewhere in the (18)90's, I think. Late (18)80's or (18)90's. When did Whitman die?     

Student: 1891

AG: So this is probably 1885? when he went to see Whitman [1877 and 1884] - 1880 perhaps? [Toward Democracy was published in 1883]  Yeah? 

Student: One thing I noticed was that he put in his descriptions of someone.. what he.. he described what he felt that they were thinking of someone else, like the Chinaman..

AG [quoting Carpenter] - "(T)he dainty-handed Chinaman"

Student: ..yeah, who mentally, I forget exactly what it was, but he judged people as he walked by, and the old woman who raised her eyebrows at certain things.

AG: Yeah

Student: That didn't seem very...

AG: Yeah, except that he is very expressive about his own judgment, and he generalizes, and that's a little different than, a good deal different from, Reznikoff, from a later 20th Century method, where it gets harder and harder, more and more objective. That was like the surgical mind of (Ezra) Pound or (William Carlos) Williams influencing everybody to cut out everything but what you could actually see. Except there's a way of including your own subjective judgments simply by realizing that they are your own subjective judgments and putting them in the poems just like objects, just like trains, hard-ons, angers. And they're just facts too. "To be in anger you good may do but no good if...

Student: ..the anger's in you".

AG: Yeah. Something like that. It's a phrase by (William) Blake - "To be in anger you good may do, but no good if the anger's in you". It's something like that.[The actual quote, from "Auguries of Innocence" - "To be in a Passion you good may do/But no good if a Passion is in you"] -  The question of realizing, or being mindful of, your subjectivity, or not being mindful, being lost in it and thinking it's the whole world, rather than seeing your own subjective rush, or detailed noticing, or cry, or feeling, as one object among many objects in the entire panoramic spectacle. 

Friday's Weekly Round-Up - 119

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Harry Smith at Allen Ginsberg's Kitchen Table, New York City, 16 June 1988 / Allen Ginsberg

[Harry Smith - Photograph by Allen Ginsberg - Copyright The Estate of Allen Ginsberg - Caption reads: "Harry Smith at kitchen table 437 East 12th Street. Apt 22, he lived in tiny quiet room off to the side of the kitchen, suffered compression fracture of knee, bumped by car on First Avenue corner - so stayed on nine months before moving to Cooperstown for half a year - still drank two bottles of beer in his room, taped ambient sounds of New York Lower Manhattan with a Sony Pro Walkman microphone wrapped in towel on outside window, ledge kitchen and front room. Night, June 16, 1988. Another stay for several weeks before we both moved to Boulder, Naropa for the summer. There he settled down."] 

Harry Smith's monumental and eccentric archives, (tape-recordings, papers, books -  but also, "a great range of (miscellaneous) objects, such as tarot cards, gourds, pop-up books, folk crafts, toys...egg-shells mounted on stands..(etc, etc).." - not to mention, his fabled string-figure collection and "an entire box of paper airplanes" collected from the streets of New York City) - long-time languishing, when we last heard, at the Anthology Film Archives), has now been acquired by theGetty Research Institute, it was officially announced this week. 
For select Smith postings on the Allen Ginsberg Project see here, hereand here.




Jerry Aronson's definitive documentary portrait, The Life and Times of Allen Ginsberg is profiled here (on Network Q) with an interview with Aronson (and a surprise walk-on by Allen!) and significant clips from Aronson's eight hours (eight hours!) of footage. Our earlier postings about Jerry and this essential source/ primary video-documentation may be found here and here

Some of the out-takes from the 1994 Network Q presentation have also been made available -  including this ("Allen Ginsberg on Right-Wing Gay Obsession") - Allen (speaking as the credits roll): "The theo-politicians [sic], (along with Jesse Helmsand their political arm) seem to be obsessively preoccupied with gay matters, and that indicates some kind of over-concern (as if it's like a personal problem for them), and that indicates a kind of perverse interest, tending toward S & M, I would say, the desire to humiliate gay people seems to be characteristic of the theo-politicians, (that (need)) to be on the top side of the gay equation, to be putting down and humiliating and forcing the gay people to their knees in front of them - which is an old familiar erotic pattern - they're probably not aware that they're playing that role."

David Biespiel further addresses Allen role as an arbiter of cultural sanity here   





Walter Salles' On The Road(see our earlier posts - herehere and here) has finally made it to widespread American distribution. Mick LaSalle reviews it for the San Francisco Chronicle  - "a movie that, like the book, is episodic and has dips in energy but has more than its share of glory and illumination", he declares. Ann Hornaday, in the Washington Post, disagrees - "Salles' On The Road takes Kerouac's breathless Beat Generation prose-poetry - created in a Benzedrine rush in front of a typewriter loaded with a 120-foot scroll of teletype paper - and reduces into the conventional elements of plot, character and setting, resulting in an episodic picaresque that all but obliterates the crazy, brazen, axis-shifting energy of the original work." A more typical "middle-ground" can be seen in Tom Long's review for the Detroit News - "It's not a wreck of a movie; it's not a sleek race car either. But there's heat to be felt here." -  Colin Covert, in the Minneapolis Star Tribune - "There's probably no substitute for reading  On The Road's incandescent prose. But this filmed interpretation is a very fine version all on its own" - and Ty Burr, in the Boston Globe- "Against all odds, (On The Road is), a surprising and effective movie".

Adam Mazmanian in the Washington Timessingles out Tom Sturridge (Carlo Marx a.k.a. Allen) as "the only actor who gives expression to the spontaneous feel of the book".  

More reviews (plenty more reviews) here on Rotten Tomatoes, the movie-review site.

    

"Like (Marcel) Proust, be an old tea-head of time", Jack famously wrote, in his 1959 "Belief and Technique for Modern Prose" (see here). This week (the anniversary year of Proust - on the centennial of the publication of Swann's Way) Viking-Penguin releases a dual-language edition of  The Collected Poems of Marcel Proust [sic] ("the most complete volume of Proust's poetry ever assembled" - "Few of the poems collected here under the editorship of Harold Augenbraum, founder of the Proust Society of America, have been published in book form or translated into English until now"). The Daily Beast reproduces "Pederasty" (Proust's first poem!) and has more on the volume here.  

Jean-Marc Barr (who plays Kerouac in the recent film adaptation of Big Sur) summons up the Proust-Kerouac connection - and more, in this interview with the Beat Museum's Niya Suddarth, shot earlier this year at the Sundance Film Festival. For a glimpse of (the trailer of) the Big Sur movie, incidentally, see here.


   
Gregory Corso's  (what-would-have-been) 83rd birthday this week. How could we have missed this? (and this is only part one!) -  thank you Michael Limnios -  and here is the link to the second part, part two)



[Gregory Corso and Allen Ginsberg, 1959 - a still from Robert Frank & Al Leslie's movie, "Pull My Daisy"]

And March 25 was the anniversary of the "Howl" bust ("520 copies... seized by U.S. Customs agents on charges of obscenity"). Quite a week! 

Kerouac - On The Road to Desolation

April Fools Day - "I Feel LIke Zeus Walking Through Red Square"

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allen1

"Where'll this reach you? Got bounced out of Havana, landed in lovely Prague and stayed a month, now for the last couple of weeks I've been in Moscow and will go on to Warsaw and Budapest and London and see you in Berkeley this summer. Got drunk with Yevtushenko and waiting for Voznesensky to get back to town tomorrow. Everybody real here, it's absolutely amazing. Very slow and difficult to penetrate underneath to some real life. I got St Basil's onion dome and Kremlin walls outside my hotel window and have filled up many detailed notebooks all thru the last couple months. They got no answers here, anyhoo. Well hope you're OK and wish you were here! I feel like Zeus walking through Red Square."

[48 years ago - April Fools Day, April 1, 1965 - Allen Ginsberg to Gary Snyder]



[Allen in Red Square, Moscow, 1965. c. Allen Ginsberg Estate]

Happy Birthday Anne Waldman

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Anne Waldman


Happy Birthday, Anne Waldman - Allen's "spiritual wife", as she has occasionally been called, the co-creator of the Jack Kerouac School (of Disembodied Poetics) at Naropa University (not to mention, primary force of theSt Marks Poetry Project) - [hats off too, incidentally, to Joel Oppenheimer, the first directorin the genesis of that venerable institution]. 

Please view our previous "content-rich" postings on the Allen Ginsberg Project about Anne, 2011 and 2012, here and here. 

Since then, well, yet another whole year has gone by, and she shows no signs of slowing down. First and foremost, she has now got her own web-site (and that can be accessed here).

A few 2012-2013 manifestations - Anne sings William Blake's "Garden of Love" (in Allen's tuning) at the recent Holy Soul Jelly Roll Ginsberg Recordings launch here(herversion of  "Bardo Corridor", with the "Waldman Family Band", from the same occasion, can be accessed here).  

Anne's recent appearance on the University of Georgia's "Unscripted" interview-show (interviewed by Alan Flurry) can be seen here.
Another interview/conversation (with Sarah Messer of One Pause Poetry) can be seen here

Her reading earlier this month at the Walt Whitman birthplace, Huntington Station, Long Island is here.

Her reading last month (with C.A Conradat Harvard's Woodberry Poetry Room, (The Poet's Voice Reading Series), can be seen here (Anne's segment follows Conrad's, approx 37 minutes in). 

A reading in Ann Arbor (at Metal) last April begins with "Mourning Song for Akilah (Oliver)" and can be viewed here

"Performing Texts", a performance at the University of Richmond can be seen here

Spontaneous Poetics - 56 (Edward Carpenter 3)

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Michael binding Satan
[The Angel Michael Binding Satan ("He Cast him into the Bottomless Pit and shut him up")  (c.1805) 
 - William Blake (1757-1827), watercolor, ink and graphite on paper - collection of Fogg Art Museum
Harvard University]


AG: I'm going to take a little divigation footnote, because Edward Carpenter, aside from the beauties of his display of a side of Whitman, and the beauties of his display of practical observation, did one other thing, which is, he wrote one fantastic relatively unknown mystical poem which has a great flight of ideas in it, though it's a bit long, five pages. But it's a real great flight of imagination. It touches something very great, some high transcendental thing, like in some (Walt) Whitman and some (William) Blake. It's called "The Secret of Time and Satan"and it really has absolutely nothing to do with anything I've been teaching, but it's just a solid object standing by itself, terrific, all on its own. Did you ever hear this, or read this, or know about this...?

Student: What's the title?

AG: It's called "The Secret of Time and Satan", "The Secret of Time and Satan" (I guess the background must be Theosophical.  This is the same sort of background that Aleister Crowleycame out of - Madame Blavatsky - and William Butler Yeats - But it's also got a Whitmanic base from the very beginning. So...


THE SECRET OF TIME AND SATAN

                                                   I

Is there one in all the world who does not desire to be divinely beautiful?
To have the most perfect body - unerring skill, strength - limpid clearness of mind, as of the      sunlight over the hills -
To radiate love wherever he goes - to move in and out accepted?
The secret lies close to you, so close.
You are that person - it lies close to you - so close to you - deep down within -
But in Time it shall come forth and be revealed.
Not by accumulating riches, but by gibing away what you have,
Shall you become beautiful.
You must undo the wrappings, not case yourself in fresh ones;
Not by multiplying clothes shall you make your body sound and healthy, but rather by discarding them; 
Not by multiplying knowledge shall you beautify your mind;
It has not the food that you have to eat that has to vivify you, but you that have to vivify the food.
Always emergence, and the parting of the veils for the hidden to appear;
The child emerges from its mother's body, and out of that body in time another child.
When the body which thou now hast falls away, another body shall be already prepared beneath,
And beneath that again another.
Always that which appears last in time is first, and the cause of all - and not that which appears first.

                                           II

Freedom has to be won afresh every morning.
Every morning thou must put forth thy strength afresh upon the world to create out of chaos the garden in which thou walkest
(Behold - I love thee - I wait for thee in thine own garden, lingering till eventide among the bushes;
I tune the lute for thee; I prepare my body for thee, bathing unseen in the limpid waters.)

                                 
                                            III

Wondrous is Man - the human body; to understand and possess this, to create it every day afresh, is to possess all things.
The tongue and all that proceeds from it; spoken and written words, languages, commands, controls, the electric telegraph girdling the earth;
The eyes ordaining, directing; the feet and all that they indicate - the path they travel for years and years;
The passions of the body, the belly and the cry for food, the heaving breasts of love, the phallus, the fleshy thighs, 
The erect proud head and neck, the sturdy back, and knees well-knit or wavering;
All the interminable attitudes and what they indicate;
Every relation of one man to another, every cringing, bullying, lustful, obscene, pure, honorable, chaste, just and merciful;
The fingers differently shaped according as they handle money for gain or for gift;
All the different ramifications and institutions of society which proceed from one such difference in the crook of a finger;
All that proceeds from an arrogant or slavish contour of the neck;  
All the evil that goes forth from any part of a man's body that is not possessed by himself; all the devils let loose - from a twist of the tongue or a leer of the eye, or the unmanly act of any member - and swirling into society; all the good which gathers round a man who is clean and strong - the threads drawing from afar to the tips of his fingers, the interpretation in his eyes, all the love which passes through his limbs into heaven:
What it is to command and be Master of this wondrous body with all is passions and powers, to truly possess it - that it is to command and possess all things, that it is to create.

                                                   IV

The art of creation, like every other art, has to be learnt:
Slowly, slowly, through many years, thou buildest up thy body,
And the power that thou now hast (such as it is) to build up this present body, thou hast acquired in the past in other bodies;
So in the future shalt thou use again the power that thou now acquirest.
But the power to build up the body includes all powers.
Do not be dismayed because thou art yet a child of chance, and at the mercy greatly both of Nature and of fate;
Because if thou wert not subject to chance, then wouldst thou be Master of thyself; but since thou art not yet Master of thine own passions and powers, in that degree must thou needs be at the mercy of some other power.
And if thou choosest to call that power "Chance", well and good.
It is the angel with whom thou has to wrestle.
       
                                                        V

Beware how thou seekest this for thyself and that for thyself.
I do not say Seek not but Beware how thou seekest.
For a soldier who is going to a campaign does not seek what fresh furniture he can carry on his back, but rather what he can leave behind;  
Knowing well that every additional thing which he cannot freely use and handle is an impediment to him.
So if thou seekest fame or ease or pleasure or aught for thyself, the image of that thing which thou seekest will come and cling to thee - and thou wilt have to carry it about;
And the images and powers which thou has thus evoked will gather round and form for thee a new body - clamoring for sustenance and satisfaction;
And if thou art not able to discard this image now, thou wilt not be able to discard that body then; but wilt have to carry it about.
Beware then lest it become thy grave and thy prison - instead of thy winged abode, and palace of joy.
For (over and over again) there is nothing that is evil except because a man has not mastery over it; and there is no good thing that is not evil if it have mastery over a man;
And there is no passion or power, or pleasure or pain, or created thing whatsoever, which is not ultimately for man and for his use - or which he need be afraid of, or ashamed at.
The ascetics and the self-indulgent divide things into good and evil - as it were to throw away the evil;
But things cannot be divided into good and evil; but are all good so soon as they are brought into subjection.
And seest thou not that except for Death thou couldst never overcome Death -
For since by being a slave to things of sense thou hast clothed thyself with a body which thou art not master of, thou wert condemned to a living tomb were that body not to be destroyed.
But now through pain and suffering out of the tomb thou shalt come; and through the experience thou hast acquired shalt build thyself a new and better body;
And so on many times, till thou spreadest wings and hast all powers diabolic and angelic concentred in thy flesh.

                                                            VI

And so at last I saw Satan appear before me - magnificent, fully-formed.
Feet first, with shining limbs, he glanced down from above among the,
And stood there erect, dark-skinned, with nostrils dilated with passion; bushes
(In the burning intolerable sunlight he stood and I in the shade of the bushes);
Fierce and scathing the effluence of his eyes , and scornful of dreams and dreamers (he touched a rock hard by and it split with a sound like thunder);
Fierce the magnetic influence of his dusky flesh; his great foot, well-formed, was planted firm in the sand - with spreading toes;
"Come out", he said with a taunt, "Art thou afraid to meet me?"
And I answered not, but sprang upon him and smote him;
And he smote me a thousand times, and brashed and scorched and slew me as with hands of flame;
And I was glad, for my body lay there dead; and I sprang upon him again with another body;
And he turned upon me, and smote me a thousand times and slew that body;
And I was glad and sprang upon him again with another body -
And with another and another and again another';
And the bodies that I took on yielded before him and were like cinctures of flame upon me, but I flung them aside;
And the pains that I endured in one body were powers which I wielded in the next; and I grew in strength, till at last I stood before him complete, with a body like his own and equal in might - exultant in pride and joy.
Then he ceased, and said, "I love thee".
And lo! his form changed, and he leaned backwards and drew me upon him,
And bore me up into the air, and floated me over the topmost trees and the ocean, and round the curve of the earth under the moon -
Till we stood again in Paradise.

AG: He really made it!  It's a long build-up (with lots of discursive chatter)

Student: Who wrote it?

AG: Edward Carpenter.

Student: What was the date?

AG: 1890?..or 1885, I guess.  So, he's actually quite a great poet, with power like that and with detail. The large book (which this is from) is called Toward Democracy, divided into different sections, (with) an enormous number of beautiful work(ing) lines in it, a lot of insight - equal to Whitman. I guess he was the nearest thing to Whitman that came out around the time, and it was interesting that he went to see Whitman - But that again gets on to the Suicide.. the Nijinsky Suicide Health Club poetry! - that gets into trying to break through the wall of time and appearance and consciousness. [Nijinsky Suicide Health Club - editorial note - was Allen's name for his fantasy dance company. It was used by the dancer David Woodberry, in February 1978, for a one-time solo performance.]   

Chogyam Trungpa's Parinirvana

Friday's Weekly Round-Up - 120

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April 5 - Allen Ginsberg's Parinirvana - April 5, 1997 - the date when Allen's spirit left its bodily form. 

Big poetry celebration event tomorrow-night in Los Angeles (at Beyond Baroque) - Claiming Ginsberg - An Evening of Allen Ginsberg and Friends (featuring Ronee Blakely, Rick Overton, S.A. Griffin, Marc Olmsted, and a whole lot more). For more information, see here



And speaking of the West Coast, a heads-up for the upcoming Hal Willner Kaddish performances (the performance at the San Francisco Jazz Festival is pretty much sold out, but you can still get tickets for the April 17 date at UCLA). 



















The last couple of days (today and tomorrow) for the New York City Grey Gallery's "Beat Memories" show (Allen's photos) before it heads off to San Francisco (May 23-September 9). In case you missed it, and the, mostly, enthusiastic response to it - there've been numerous reviews - see our earlier posts here, here and here.
Joseph Neighbor's recent Salon piece, for example, (which originally appeared in Hypoallergic) can be found here.     



Last week, we surveyed a bunch ofOn The Road (movie) reviews - Here's a few more, starting with - what we have to declare to be hyperbole - Harry Kloman in the PittsburghCity Paper- "Walter Salles' moody, energetic film is more enjoyable than Jack Kerouac's book" (sic!). Barry Paris  in the Pittsburgh Post-Gazette is a little more measured - "On the Road film takes slower trip than book", is the headline, and he goes on to note - "This film version feels less exuberant than the book, slowed down and muted to emphasize the loneliness and melodramatic pain more than the wild excitements of the road. Still, it's a worthy rendering of its be-bop bohemian - dissipated yet strangely innocent - heroes.."   Rob Boylan in the Orlando Weekly points out the dilemma - "The problem with this film is that it's impossible to divorce it, even a little bit, from its source material. It seems unfair but those are the breaks.." - "Even a (very) good film would suffer in comparison with the novel" ..."director Walter Salles and writer Jose Rivera have (at least) not corralled the text - no-one ever could, and that's sort of the point". Kelly Vance's review for East Bay Express is here. Ryan Sartor for Patch.comhere, Duane Dudek for the Milwaukee Journal Sentinelhere. For more (an extensive and on-going gathering of On The Road reviews) see here



Helen Weaver, an old friend, writes to us that she recently unearthed a piece - Hare Krishna SRO: Allen Ginsberg at The New School (on a reading from 1969) - "Allen, the internationalist, the breaker of barriers, who will roll up his trouser legs and wade into any strange waters..."  

Allen in Poland! - There's a whole web-site devoted to Allen-in-Poland/Allen seen from the perspective of Poland (mostly in Polish, natch, but this recent interview with poet Adam Lizarkowski - My Encounters With Allen Ginsberg - has been helpfully translated into English and is certainly well worth a read).

Allen in Bangladesh! - a national hero! - stay tuned, we'll have more about that next week.   

A Mix Tape/Allen Ginsberg Dancing

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Spontaneous Poetics - 57 - (William Carlos Williams 1)

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[[William Carlos Williams c.1948 -  photograph by Constantin Joffe]

AG: We've gone all the way to the other end again. Now (we'll) come back to- something like haiku, like Reznikoff - William Carlos Williams. Most people here have read Williams, I guess. How many have not at all [Student raises his hand] - just one? - [to Student] - you've not read Williams, that's right? - Okay, so for those who haven't, Williams is the clearest and simplest and most direct, (He's) trying to tie the mind down, bring the imagination down to earth again, and put all of his energy, all of his intensity into seeing what's actually there, that anybody can see. Common, light-of-day, no bullshit, no (flights of) imagination, except (at least in his youth), except what he's conscious of as daydream, while looking directly at people, cars, houses, porches, bushes, maple trees, Rutherford, New Jersey. He's a doctor. 
 I'll read a couple of early things  which are just, like, sketches, like "the dainty-handed Chinaman" - [Allen reads Williams' "Late for Summer Weather" - "He has on/an old light grey fedora/She a black beret/  He a dirty sweater/She an old blue coat/that fits her tight..."..."..they kick/  their war through/heaps of/fallen maple leaves/ still green - and/crisp as dollar bills./ Nothing to do. Hot cha!" - and  "Proletarian Portrait" - "A big young bareheaded woman/in an apron..."..."She pulls out the paper insole/to find the nail/ That has been hurting her"] 
Of course, Williams was a friend of Reznikoff and they were practicing the same poetics together, trying to get it boiled down to clear, direct, presentation of the object that they were writing about, no excess words, composing their poems out of the elements of natural speech, out of the elements of their own speech, as heard on the porch or talked over at the kitchen table, and a poetry which would be identical with regular conversation (actually, you could hear it as conversation and not notice it as poetry, unless you suddenly dug that there was something going on curiously sharp and fresh, that it was smart people talking).  
Smart people talking - "The Young Housewife" - he's a doctor - [Allen reads Williams' "The Young Housewife" - "At ten A.M. the young housewife/moves about in negligee behind/the wooden walls of her husband's house./I pass solitary in my car/Then again she comes to the curb/to call the ice-man, fish-man, and stands/shy, uncorseted, tucking in/stray ends of hair, and I compare her/ to a fallen leaf./The noiseless wheels of my car/rush with a crackling sound over/dried leaves as I bow and pass smiling."] - He made fun of his own poetic impulse to compare it to, say, as in a Chinese poem - "and I compare her/ to a fallen leaf" - But he had, " the ice-man, fish-man, and stands/shy, uncorseted, tucking in/stray ends of hair". It could be a television commercial photograph picture, in the sense that the elements are basic American.
So the question is, is this any good for the mind, or is there no soul? - or, where has all the romance gone? - or, what is the metaphysical battle here? (or what is the moral victory accomplished by this sort of ordinary mind? - or,what's even the use of being so flat, prosaic, unpoetic? Or, what's the purpose of trying to make poetry out of ordinary objects seen under the aspect of ordinary mind? - Well, the purpose is that, generally, we generally don't see ordinary objects at all, we're filled with daydream fantasy, so we don't see what's in front of us and we're not aware of what's close to the nose and we don't even appreciate what everyday tables and chairs have to offer in terms of service for food or a place for our ass, actually. So, as in Buddhist doctrine,( it) involves zero-ing in with ordinary mind on actuality, and abandoning any thought of heaven, abandoning any thought of illumination, giving up desire for any paradise, giving up even a desire to be good rather than evil, giving up on any attempt to manipulate the universe to make it better than it is, but instead, "coming down", as in the hippie phrase,  "coming down" to earth and being willing to relate to what is actually here, without having to change the universe magically, or alter it to substitute a different universe from the one that we can see, smell, taste, touch, hear, and think about. So Williams' work as a poet is very similar to Zen Buddhism or Tibetan-style Buddhism mindfulness practice, because it clamps down the mind on objects and brings the practitioner into direct relations with whatever he can find in front of him, without making a big deal, without making a big apocalypse, without falsifying to satisfy some ego ambition to have something more princely, or less painful, than what is already.

Student: For Williams, was there a clique (as) inspiration?, people that he met that led him to create an art of the ordinary, you might say?, or did it just, in a sense, evolve out of his life? 

AG: Well, he was good friends  with extraordinary people -(Ezra) Pound, H.D., Marianne Moore - They all knew each other, I think, at the University of Pennsylvania, around 1907, perhaps. He always thought Pound was a little a little cranky and crazy, but great. He dug Pound but he always thought he was kind of far-out. So Williams was kind of naive, square. Williams was a basic square, basically a square, in a sense, but inside, tremendously humane, since he learned to deal with what was around him, he learned to tolerate a great deal and sympathize or empathize. But I think his growth was autochthonous, home-made, totally home-made, totally self-made, totally natural. He had the idea of going in that direction very early, and he just kept working at it, and thought about working at (it) and practiced medicine - going through poetry and through the development of his focus just like he'd gone through medical school - years and years to get to be a doctor - and then practicing. He deliberately stayed in Rutherford, New Jersey, and wrote poems about local landscape, using local language. He wanted to be a provincial, or he wanted to be provincial from the point of view of wanting to be really there where he was. And really know his ground. know his roots, really know all the people around that he lived with, know who the ice-man (and) the fish-man were, know the housewife, know the corsets, know the five and dime where she might buy pins to put in her hair. He wanted to know his town or his place, or his own body, in a sense. And that seems to have been a strange idea he got by himself. He might have got it from some literary sources, like  (Gustave) Flaubert,(Guy de) Maupassant, (andJohn) Keatsmight have given him some hints.  

Student: Isn't it that he was an obstetrician, that had a lot to do with his vision too.

AG: Sure

Student: He was constantly...

AG: Yeah, he was dealing with birth constantly, with actual birth, rather than literary birth, or imaginative, idealistic birth. He was actually dealing with flesh, eyes, mama's breasts, milk, blood, first yells, and death. So there's a lot of very precise poems about people actually being born, or kids.. (He was a) podiatrist, actually.

Student: Pediatrician

AG: Pediatrician. Yeah, podiatrist. Pediatrician. Baby doctor as well, not just obstetrician. He went around (and) saw ten-year-old's with whooping cough. So, actually, somebody no different to us, then. In other words, someone that you don't have to worry about, that he's going to pull a fast metaphysical trick on you and declare another universe. So that's the whole point. He's dealing with the universe, which is a fantastic discovery, that yu can actually make poetry by dealing with the universe instead of inventing another one, or insisting that there's another one all the time, and writing as if there were another one. Like Edward Carpenter. It deals with basic matters and impulses of the heart, but, (as) my father (who was) on his death-bed talking aboutWordsworth (said), or sick-bed, I should say, talking about Wordsworth's "Intimations of Immortality" (said). "It sounds pretty, but it isn't true". Simple as that. Sounds pretty but it isn't true.

[tape ends here - to be continued..]    

Spontaneous Poetics - 58 (William Carlos Williams 2)

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[William Carlos Williams ( 1883-1963)]

"No ideas but in things" - Allen tries to explain William Carlos Williams' famous dictum to his students (Naropa Summer Session, 1976)

AG: (Doctor Williams) is all about accuracy. The phrase "clamp your mind down on objects" is his, the phrase, "No ideas but in things". "No ideas but in things". Does anybody not understand what that means? - "No ideas but in things"?  Is there anybody that doesn't get that? [Student raises his hand] - Okay, is there anybody else who doesn't get that?  Please raise your hand if it isn't perfectly clear what that means, because it's a phrase I'm really fond of and I know what it means and I can explain it. So if anybody is not sure.. [more students raise their hands] - okay..it means no general ideas.

Student: Nobody understands what it means.

AG: Nobody? Alright, it means, in your poetry, don't put out any abstract general ideas about things but present the things themselves that gave you the idea. In other words, observe. Instead of saying, "all animals are related in their biological intelligence", there'sthat Reznikoff  [Allen is confused here - it's not Reznikoff but Basho] poem about the baby mice squeaking to the sparrows, the baby sparrows in their nest.

Student: Babies?

AG: Yeah

Student: Didn't, say, (Bertolt) Brechtand (Kurt) Weill (present a more general, populist, address) in their poems?

AG: Yeah, they did, but Williams  is saying that we shouldn't do that, we should do something else. So, first, lets try to understand what Williams is trying to say before we oppose a different theory. In other words, they have one theory, he has another theory. So lets figure out his theory. First figure out his theory, then we'll figure our whether he should have it or not.

Student: Brecht and Weill proposed (what they proposed as) a general way of writing.

AG: Yeah, well he's proposing it as a general way of writing, but first, let's understand what a general way of writing is, then we'll decide whether we like it or not - or Brecht and Weill had something better (or maybe they had the same thing in a different way). But just the phrase, "No ideas but in things". It's the same thing as I was talking to you [turning to one student] about your poem - that you're representing, plastering a lot of general ideas or epithets or adjective descriptions or insults on the girl in the pool-hall, the pinball-machine store up there, but you don't describe the girl or her actual clothes or any details about her. Yeah?

Student: That's very difficult for me to (do). In a sense I understand, but, in a sense, it's like I think of, like the sun - there's this luminous object out there doing something. And it's like, for me, it's like, by definition, anything I'm going to put down on the page is not going to be that object.

AG: Right. No, it's not going to be that object.

Student: It's not going to be that object. So it's got to be what my mind is doing with, or perceiving, that object.

AG: Yeah, Yeah. That's true. That's true. The words are not identical to the things that they represent. That's basic semantics.

Student: So for me the function of what I'm doing..well, I've got to a point now.. but it's trying to clarify what the thing is. There's this luminous thing. Are we going around it? Or is it going around us? What's happening? And, for me, the words are part of exploration in discovering the thing per se. So, what.. why I sort of ramble on..these fantasy things, it's more to try to sort out, well, what is a fantasy and what is the thing?

AG: Anybody else got to.. relate to that?

Student: I do, too.

AG: Yeah?

Student: If all of us here..if Allen put a couple of (objects) on the table and we all sat here and did a still-life with words, we'd all come up with something that was different but expressed our own personality. We couldn't help but do it. And trusting that that would be an explanation of your universe, I think, is what makes (poetic accuracy) - that you can emote through a piece of writing about, you know, a still-life of fruit, just by describing it, because, simply because, you've got a different angle on it, it's individual. (It) necessitates that. And that doesn't mean you can't (have general truth too). See what I mean?

AG: Well, I think the question you're asking is basic. So we'll continue with that from now on. If I don't answer it directly right this minute, it's because I can't figure (out) the right answer. I could figure out some answers, but I want a definitive final answer that will end all other universes, why not? I want an apocalyptic answer.

Student:  Isn't an observation, your sun, an observation of what you reacted, or how you reacted, to the sun, as much as an observation of real things? As long as you're not saying the sun is dah-dah-dah-dah-dah.  An observation of how you're reacting to it - isn't that as concrete?

AG: Well give me an instance. Let's see..Williams - "the sun is a flame-white disk in silken mists above shining trees" - Well, he's really being pretty fair there. He's just telling you what you can see.

Student: Yeah

AG: He isn't trying to lay a trip about some other sun on you. In a sense, he's just talking about the sun that you see with your eyes on a specific kind of day.

Student: Yeah, fine, sure.

AG: So there's no big problem. Is there really a problem in figuring out how to describe the sun?

Student: Yeah, because it's all.. It's like astronomy and..conceptions, and how you're looking at the universe and stuff, and how people..look at how humanity..

AG: But (so) there's our ideas, but if you want to describe the actual sun you see in front of you..

Student: Well I'm not sure what he's trying to say.

AG: Well, he's saying, try and describe the actual things that you see in front of you, or try... to be able to put your mind there to begin with. If you can't begin with that, I mean, what good are any ideas? If you can't at least begin with that, seeing what the senses offer right there. If you can't use that as a base, maybe you want to make an astronomy after that (but that astronomy would have to be based on a direct observation of some kind, originally.

Student: Well, like for me, I guess, what turned me on to this whole (thing) is (Aldous) Huxley in The Doors of Perception and all that sort of thing, and I started looking for that...

AG: Uh-huh

Student: And then when I.. what I'm afraid (of doing).. I don't want to misperceive. Like, (to take) a (very) weird thing, like the war, like I think of the Vietnam war, and all the people who  perceived one thing that was a reality and they acted on it...

AG: Uh-huh

Student: ...and it caused all this death and all these incredible.. when, if they would have perceived another, looking at the same situation, it would have led to a different...

AG: Yeah, but what...

Student: ...and that's what I'm concerned about.

AG: Sure, well that's what he (Williams) is concerned about. He's concerned about (it) too but he's saying that, unless you look at the dying man in front of you, you won't be able to see what's wrong with your behavior towards him. If you think it's a sort of an idea... it's not a change of idea, it's a change of direct experience.

Student [another Student]: Allen, the way I look at it, explain this to my students, is - you know the story of Adam in the Bible? - and God said to Adam, this and that, "I want to give you this really strange power, which (is) you can name everything. Everything you see you can name it." So he learnt how to name it. And this idea that Williams has is very similar to that. You actually have to look at it and perceive it as "it", the thing itself (and that that quality of perception gets transferred to language is kind of extraordinary.

AG: I don't think that solves the problem of just trying to look. See, it's a real simple thing that we're talking about when he says "No ideas but in things"...It's so simple that it's actually nothing to argue about. Once understood, then it's like a building-block in other systems, maybe, or a reference point for a complete system in itself, or useable in other systems. But until it is itself a phrase in the practice (that) is understood, I don't think you'll get anywhere, because there's no common ground to begin with. Perhaps what he's saying, in a way, is what's one common ground? just what's the one common ground where we are?. The sun is "a flame white disc", or the sun is an orange ball, and the sun is going down over the maple tree. Just the sun as we see it - and how artfully can we describe it? - just what we see - or what we hear - just that common ground where everybody's eyes, ears, nose, touch, taste, intersect. It may be fictional but there is one common ground where most of the time everybody's in the same place. And (we) can use (it) as a sort of reference-point. If we don't have any reference-point at all there in the physical world that we see in front of us, then what do we (have)? And finally, the reference-point for Buddhists, say - because everything is so confusing, everybody can see different suns - (is that) at least everybody's breathing. Yes, at least. The one thing (is) that every human is breathing, and if they've got noses they're breathing through their nose. That's where Buddhism starts its metaphysics in this universe. It begins (at) the one place that everybody can locate. You're here. You're breathing. You may not have eyes, you may be deaf, you may have your tongue torn out by the executioner, but at least you're still breathing. So start there at the tip of the nose and feel the breath going in and out. You may  not have a belly, so you can't go to zazen, but at least you can start right here. As Williams says, what's "close to the nose" (that's his phrase) - "close to the nose". Start close to the nose, with your mother's salami or something, something everybody can eat. So he just wants that. He's just pointing to that reality as some place where everybody really is, or can be, if they'll accept (it). Let's work from there (and) we might (then) be able to build another universe, but at least lets begin where we are.

Student: A phrase, yeah.. a  phrase that is meaningful to me and is related (whether it is or not, to me it's related) is the thing I was just reading (in) this Apollinaire book..about something about a dropped handkerchief..(how it) could be a lever to move the universe..and I guess, for me, it's what I.. I'm not a different universe. It's just, I'll.. I'll (interpret) the shit out of this one.. I don't know, but yeah...

AG:  Well, see, historically, the reason he (Williams) was into this was that reality had got so confusing in the 20th century and poetry had gotten so freaked out and strange that he wanted to.. he didn't know what poetry wasand he didn't know what anything was. What he knew was what was close to his nose, at least, so he said he would like to begin there, and maybe if he could build a poetics, build some kind of way of measuring the lines, some kind of new rhythm, some way of seeing, (he could) at least begin with what he could see around him. So from that point of view, he said. "No ideas anymore, but the things themselves. I'll try and describe directly what I see".  Now, naturally, every description is an abstraction. It's a word, it's not the thing. Naturally, everybody's going to see slightly different(ly). Naturally, the entire world is fictional, in the sense that word itself, concepts themselves, are abstractions, are ideas. Words themselves are ideas already. So there's a little double-dealing shadiness in that phrase, but, in a relative universe, it's about as down as you can get (in terms of being high (and) "coming down") - Coming down, like come-down. Everybody come down to the same place to begin with. Let's start the game over. Let's start the whole poetry game all over again. Everybody come down to the same place, which is the only place where everybody can be (there's only one place that everybody can be and that's right here, where everybody is). There aren't two places where you've got to be because you'd have half in one place and half in  the other. So there's got to be one place where everybody can be, sort of..

Student: Sort of?

AG: Yeah

Student: It seems very weird that he started with things which are so susceptible to changing and not being what they appear to be.

AG: Like?

Student: Like.. any thing. (So), well, what else is there then?

AG: Well what (else) is he going start on?

Student: There are actions, there are people's feelings.

AG: Actions like what?

Student: Jumping

AG: ...is jumping. jumping is a little more abstract than his automobile crunching over the dried leaves. I think that's pretty clear.

Student: One abstraction..what can be more abstract than this?

AG: I think we're using the word "abstract"...

Student: I mean less abstract

AG: I think you and I are using the word "abstract" in a different meaning.

Student: Well, then let's think about abstract

AG: I think we're using that word in a different meaning.

Student: Okay, objects are real slippery, but gestures, actions...

AG: No! -   That's the zaniest idea I've heard in two hours! - I don't even want to get into it! That's your mind again. Okay, that's a very specialized mind, and a specialized use of the words, and it would take hours to wrangle out the way you're using that word a little different than the way we were using that word (or some of us were using that word). So it's where are we going to begin? So the question is where are we going to begin?... So Williams says let's begin with what we can see in front of us. Yeah

Student: Allen?

AG: Wait..

Student: Isn't William Carlos Williams sort of saying to leave psychology and analytic thinking and metaphysics to the people who are psychologists and analysts and philosophers, and saying that the meanings that should be in poetry is the meaning of the things themselves and.. so the greatest idea then is just to have perceivable objects.  

AG: I suppose that would be one way of saying it, though..(plenty of) psychologists and analysts and philosophers are chasing after him now, are chasing after Williams' perceptions now, because they seem so grounded that it seems like a good place to begin. It's a place where everybody can begin together. Williams was looking for a place where everybody could begin together to start writing an American poetry, because it was a new world, a new continent, newly discovered, newly invaded, with a lot of European ideas plastered onto it, and he was trying to clean up the slate and start all over again. And so he wrote a book calledIn The American Grain, trying to retrace through American history to see what fresh planet we had come up with. Yeah?


Student: Allen, it seems to me that the imaginative leap in Williams is that.. for instance, you say he cuts out all those things, but he doesn't. He just shows it by presenting by example...All of those things are recreated in the reader's mind, but he wants them, but there's more freedom to recreate whatever he wants as well.

AG: Yeah

Student: Somehow just by using the words he uses to describe a thing, his reactions to the thing are conveyed. It isn't a completely cold...

AG:  Yeah

Student: ...just philosophical analysis of the object.

AG: There's...  we'll get to it in a minute.. There's another way of saying it which is(Ezra) Pound's "The natural object is always the adequate symbol". If you want a world of symbols and abstractions, Pound says,  "The natural object is always the adequate symbol"

Student: It's like he's taking the common language and revitalizing (rejuvinating) it spoiled by usage.

AG: Yeah, there's that element to it.

Student: And he takes it and shows how...

AG: He wants to use it more precisely..  Yeah - and then he's got another phrase - "The revolution has been accomplished. Noble.."

Student: "Noble has been changed to No bull"

AG: Right. "The revolution has been accomplished. Noble has been changed to No bull" - Noble has been changed to no bullshit. What is noble is what's seen directly, rather than a big airy, theoretic on it. But there's another way of saying it - if you dig the phrasing (of)
"babble, babble, babble, babble"- and then someone says, "Well, give me a for instance" - so he's saying "No poetry but in for instances". Poetry should be all "for instance(s)" - like in the phrase "Give me a for instance" (because you don't understand what the guy's saying, but if you actually tack it down to something that you both know about, then you could figure it out. So "give me a for instance" or "no ideas but in things". So all I was trying to do was say, "Is that phrase, "no ideas but in things", is that understandable?" - or is it a mysterious phrase that sounds abstract itself (because it is an abstraction).

Student: The only thing that bothers me about it is that it leaves out.. it talks about ideas and it talks about things, but it doesn't talk about feelings.. It doesn't..

AG: He would say you could use feelings, include feelings, but you'd have to deal with them as ..

Student: Observed things.

AG:  ...observed things, and not get lost.

Student: Right

AG: And it's very similar in the process of meditation to paying attention to the breath, wandering off into a daydream, and then becoming conscious of the mind moving into a daydream, straightening the spine and returning to the breath. You could then describe the thought you had, but you'd no longer be possessed by it or lost in it. So he's saying "Don't get lost in ideas". You can have ideas but don't get lost in them. Don't lose perspective, in the sense that, in the grand panorama, the ideas are part of the panorama but they can't displace the entire panorama, and there's the home-base to touch back on. Yeah?  

Student: I think what (someone earlier) was saying was that..when he looks at things, that's himself, in (what he's looking at), he invests himself in the thing the same way that he presents feelings to objects and that the objects really are an investment of himself, The objects really are an idea that he's looking at. I mean that's..

AG: I'm not quite sure I understand..

Student:.. he (I think) observes things, and then (he) fills them in with his attention.

AG: Well, yes.. he fills them in .. What he's saying - "Let's fill with our attention the things that other people can also see and fill with their attention, and then we can both check our consciousnesses one against another, and see where we are in relation to each other, and in relation to the..."  It's like triangulating, one fantasy against the microphone and another fantasy against the microphone, and then you check your fantasies, and you can figure out, like you triangulate the stars to find out where you are.  

Spontaneous Poetics - 59 (William Carlos Williams 3)

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AG: I would just like to read two short poems of (William Carlos) Williams that I think are crucial to this (discussion of "No ideas but in things"), and also intersect with Buddhist practice of sunyatabreath, which the upstairs guru (Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche) discoursed on the other night. [Allen begins by reading Williams' poem "Good Night"

GOOD NIGHT

In brilliant gas light
I turn the kitchen spigot
and watch the water plash
into the clean white sink,
On the grooved drain-board
to one side is
a glass filled with parsley -
crisped green

                                      Waiting
for the water to freshen -
I glance at the spotless floor - :
A pair of rubber sandals
lie side by side
under the wall-table
all is in order for the night.

Waiting, with a glass in my hand
- three girls in crimson satin
pass close before me on
the murmurous background of
the crowded opera -     

                                               it is
memory playing the clown - 
three vague, meaningless girls
full of smells and
the rustling sounds of
cloth rubbing on cloth and
little slippers on carpet -
high-school French
spoken in a loud voice!

Parsley in a glass,
still and shining,
brings me back. I take a drink
and yawn deliciously
I am ready for bed.

AG: So he's explained the whole process actually, there. He demonstrated the process of focusing where the eye hits, on the object that the eye hits, locating himself, daydreaming off, coming back, recognizing the daydream, coming back with some humor, realizing what he's done  - "Parsley in a glass,/still and shining,/brings me back. I take a drink..." Now the greatest thing about this poem, I've found, is that ever since I read it and understood it I've never gone to the kitchen sink and turned on the water and waited for the water to freshen without being aware of waiting for the water to freshen. And I had done that all through my childhood and youth without noticing it, and almost everybody who ever hears this poem becomes more mindful, like a Zen master, of what he's doing when he turns on the water.

Student: What's the name of that?

AG: It's called "Good Night" - Good night, Good night. Yeah

Student: Do you have any.. can you explain why the mundaneness is interesting in that and not (just tedious and boring)?

AG: The mundaneness is interesting, to me, because it's seen so clearly that it becomes.. "crisped green" (and) "still and shining". The water glass suddenly becomes a totemic object. It becomes a symbol of itself, or, it becomes a symbol of his investment of attention into that object (your language, H. - [Allen alludes here to an earlier student question]) - The water glass becomes a symbol of the investment of his attention into that object, or it becomes a symbol of itself also. But it's also just demonstrating the process. It's just that it's such a great demonstration of the process of someone being really right where he is and seeing something outside of himself objectively, really there, and because he sees it so clearly, because he's not daydreaming while he's looking, he notices what about the object shines, what's particular about the object that can be written down in a word that would represent the object in the mind's eye to the reader. In other words, seeing so clearly (not seeing it as "that's a dirty old water glass that was manufactured by Hawkins Glass Company in Capitalism", or something), he sees the object without associations, so to speak. He sees the object without associations. Like as if he's just born. There's the object, and he sees how peculiarly, particularly, itself the object is. And, actually, of course, that's characteristic of visionary moments, really. You actually get visions this way by giving it up. You get supernatural vision by giving up supernatural vision and just looking at what's in front of you. That's the whole point. There's no ideational screen, there's no projection in front of you, you're not projecting another (reality), you're not superimposing another idea or other image on the image that's already there. You're actually seeing what's there. That makes sense somewhat in Buddhist terms, I think - in Zen Buddhist terms. But to make sure that he is really a Buddhist, there is a poem, "Thursday", which I'll end this class on. 
It's 1924 or '(2)5. [Allen reads William Carlos Williams' "Thursday']:

THURSDAY

I have had my dream - like others -
and it has come to nothing, so that
I remain now carelessly
with feet planted on the ground
and look up at the sky -
feeling my clothes about me,
the weight of my body in my shoes,
the rim of my hat, air passing in and out
at my nose - and decide to dream no more

So he finally got where the ancients got, which is close to the nose. I discovered this poem when I was trying to teach poetics in 1973 at the Naropaseminary, which was a totally Buddhist situation, and I always thought that Williams was somewhat Zen in his carefulness of attention, but when I came to that - "the rim of my hat, air passing in and out/ at my nose - and decide to dream no more." - I realized that, in a sense, the theoretic Buddhism and practice we were doing and the American pragmatic practice had intersected, finally, and there was common ground. And that Williams, like the great simple-minded, home-spun, self-made "Murican [sic], had arrived at the same place that everybody else was studying, and had got there early and on his own, and so it reconfirmed my feeling that he was like some kind of saint of perception.   

Student: Don't you think you can also bring that mindfulness to the daydreams?

AG: Yes.  Yes, you can bring mindfulness to daydream. You can bring mindfulness to philosophical abstraction. You can bring mindfulness to anger. You can bring mindfulness to rhapsody (you can bring mindfulness to suicide rhapsody even - but, say, for beginner's practice, shunyata, as they call it, for beginner's practice, it's probably best to begin with the easiest exercise in the easiest place, which is right in front of us, right here.

Student: Did Williams impress you that way personally?

AG: Yeah. Personally, very much so. Very much so... 
Yeah, I think.. It's just that..  I think.. It's rarely recognized where he begins, anyway. It's rarely recognized how much he focuses, and where he begins, and I think it's worthwhile just isolating it as totally mundane - and working with the mundane, working with just fact, just as a beginning, to understand his basic principle - and then extending it (as we have) - Well, you can be mindful about generalizations if you're mindful about the particulars out of which you can roll up a sum of generalizations. I think that's his phrase. The phrase comes in Paterson. [Allen reads the relevant lines - "Say it, no ideas but in things - / and factories crystallized from its force/ like ice from spray upon the chimney rocks."/...."Say it! No ideas but in things. Mr/ Paterson has gone away/ to rest and write. Inside the bus one sees/ his thoughts sitting and standing."] -  "Say it, no ideas but in things - / and factories crystallized from its force/ like ice from spray upon the chimney rocks." - "Say it! No ideas but in things. Mr/ Paterson has gone away/ to rest and write. Inside the bus one sees/ his thoughts sitting and standing. Say it no ideas besides the facts" - I mean he put it down really baldly, blatantly - "No ideas besides the facts". He left out the word "things" finally - said "No ideas but the facts" -He did that repeatedly just to get the idea across. He meant something really simple finally, an I think it ought to be started on a simple level.

Student: Your suggestion is that the beginning meditator and the beginning poet concentrate on what's there at (his/her) nose and maybe later something else?

AG: Later get on to Crazy Wisdom. Later get on to Mahayana, sunyata void, and later you get into Crazy Wisdom and Surrealism.

(John) Ashbery is reading at the library now, so I'm going to go over there and dig his reading. Boulder Public Library, which is across the river and into the trees, Ninth and Canyon
[tape ends here

Friday's Weekly Round-Up - 121

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A couple of weeks back (yes, it's taken us that long to recover from all of the travel!) Allen was honored as one of the national heroes of the liberation struggle for the creation/establishment of the modern state of Bangladesh ."September on Jessore Road", it seems, had, in 1971, an extraordinary effect in publicizing the appalling plight of the refugees and spreading word on the refugee-crisis there. Bob Rosenthal and Peter Haleof the Ginsberg Estate, flew out to the official ceremonies to accept the award on Allen's behalf. 
Here's a few notes about (and selected images from) what was, clearly, a truly remarkable occasion...


[Bob Rosenthal and Muhammad Al-Amin reading
a few stanzas from "September on Jessore Road, 
 Ganges River boat ride, Bangladesh, March 25, 2013] 
 

Bob Rosenthal -  "(Shortly after our arrival) Peter and I traded stories for a TV crew documenting the events - they wanted to know all about "September on Jessore Road”, and how Allen felt about Bangladesh, and we told how Allen had most wanted to impress Bob Dylan and John Lennon with the long song.  John suggested that Allen record it with a string quartet [and he subsequently did so]. I read the entire poem for the cameras without sleep and feeling the strong emotions associated with the entire event. I actually shed tears while reading the text.  I was learning that the Bangladeshis are a proud, friendly people, they never forget their friends - nor will they (easily) forgive their enemies."

"(Initially) No schedules were offered. Finally, Peter asked, "how many honorees are there?" - "Seventy - and, with families, about one-hundred-and-fifty " (was the reply). [indeed, Allen was just one of a large number of those honored, drawing from a range of nationalities]. Incredulous, we made the man repeat the statement."


"The auditorium was filled and the balcony was packed with uniformed school-children in white tops and black pants or skirts.  The first minister read the long detailed description of each honoree's deeds.  This recitation took about forty minutes.  The children were getting restless and a low murmur arose from the balcony.  Everyone ignored the children as they got louder and louder.  The slow reading just carried on. I stayed awake watching people in the audience and fantasizing about their lives.  Next, we were called up individually to receive the wooden honor from the Prime Minister. The award is a plaque in a stand with brass inscribed plates on the base.  The award comes apart and fits neatly into the wooden box, (and) in your jute bag.  As soon as I had bowed to the PM and taken the award back to my seat, a young soldier took the wooden box and award and returned with it neatly boxed."



[Friends of Liberation War Honour awarded to Allen Ginsberg] 
















"(After the ceremony) We had a three-hour boat ride with food and entertainment.  Bangladeshi patriotic songs and dances were performed.    After lunch a young college student named Mohammed Al-Amin translated two verses of "September on Jessore Road" and we read the verse alternating between the original and the Bengali...."

Peter Hale - "Two weeks ago, Bob Rosenthal and I had the pleasure of flying to Dhaka to receive an honor on Allen's behalf from the government of Bangladesh. The current government were honoring Allen along with 70 0ther people and their families for their support of Bangladesh during their 1971 Liberation War against West Pakistan, as it was known at the time. Many of the honorees were journalists, politicians, descendants of generals, doctors, Red Cross volunteers - even magicians! - who had, in some way, tended to, or publicized the plight of the Bangladeshis and the genocide that was underway.

What did Allen do to be so worthy of this gratitude, some 42 years later? - In 1971, he wrote the poem "September on Jessore Road", his vivid recollections of the Jessore Road refugee camp on the Indian side of the border, where, literally, millions of families and orphans had sought protection from the brutal Pakistani onslaught. You really can't over-estimate the importance placed on the poem, its significance for the country.[Moushumi Bhoumik's haunting version did much to spread the word] Students are asked, "who is Allen Ginsberg?" for college-entrance exams, and most moderately-educated Bengalis will know who he is, if only for just that one poem! - Probably no surprise, since Bangladesh puts a high value on literature. Their national anthem, "Amar Shonar Bangla" is a (Rabindranath) Tagorepoem, after all. "



Feted in Bangladesh, meanwhile lambasted this past week in Arica, Chile. "Allen Ginsberg no debiera ser leido por nadie" is the stunning quote (uttered by a public official, one Ana Montiglio) - "Allen Ginsberg should not be read by anyone"!  All this part of an ill-advised witch-hunt against poet-teacher Daniel Rojas Pachas for, inadvertently, "exposing" Allen in a workshop (on craft book-making, no less) to "minors". More in the Spanish-language press (scroll down to Leonardo Sanhueza's commentary)  - and here - A petition in support of Rojas Pachas by prominent Chilean poets and intellectuals may be read here. The editors of  Bifurcaciones("Contra la miopia cultural en Arica") ("Against Cultural Myopia in Arica") express their solidarity here. 


Remember Occupy Wall Street? (we hope it's not so swiftly forgotten!). Remember in New York the desecration of the People's Library? The Library won an important battle in court this week. "The City of New York and Brookfield Properties (the owner of the park) agreed to pay more than $230,000 to settle a law-suit filed last year in Federal District Court asserting that books and other property had been damaged or destroyed when police and sanitation workers cleared an encampment from Zuccotti Park.."  




Emily Fulop's Jericho and Other Poems is an interesting little book arising out of that struggle, shamelessly modeling itself on Allen's City Lights "Howl". As Emily herself writes:  "On September 17, 2011, after months of planet earth reverberating from change, Americans came together...Disturbed by the politics of our time, and the disillusionment of those in power - the howling began. That howl was "We are the 99%". 

In response to a world writhing with such energy I was inspired to howl myself. So, in loving memory to Allen Ginsberg's Howl, I offer up my own"..

Allen Ginsberg & Michael McClure - 1976 Naropa "Retrospective" Reading

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[Allen Ginsberg & Michael McClure, circa 1965.
Photographer unknown] 




We've been featuring of late transcription from Allen's 1976 summer-session teaching at Naropa Institute - Spontaneous Poetics. Alongside of that (and alongside all the other classes) there was also a lively reading-series at Naropa that year (which Allen actively participated in), perhaps the highlight of which was his own June 16 reading with Michael McClure (the introduction is by Anne Waldman). 

Courtesy the remarkable Internet Archive, we have the audio (in two segments) of this unique collaborative event. The poets decided, rather than having two distinct sets, to intersperse their poems, and to look back, retrospectively, to the (19)50's and to the legendary San Francisco where they first met.

The tape begins with a detailed description by Anne Waldman of the special conjunction of the two poets (first meeting at a cocktail party hosted by Ruth Witt-Diamant of the San Francisco Poetry Center, held in honor of the Center's original benefactor W.H.Auden). Following her detailed listing of previous collaborative Ginsberg-McClure occasions, the poets begin. Allen is the first to speak (approximately 3-and-a-half minutes in).

AG: Michael and I decided that, for the evening, it would be interesting to go back historically and read some of the same texts that we first read together the first time we read together, so I’m going to..so this evening we’re going to.. alternate readings, beginning with  a very brief presentation by myself and then a brief presentation by him, and then longer trading back-and-forth, five- and ten-minute sections, improvising the time as we go. So I’ll begin with a sample of a poem that I read in San Francisco in 1955. I read it here with (Chogyam) Trungpa (with Anne Waldman) last year - (the) complete text of "Howl", but, just as a  sort of starting-point, I’ll read a thirty-five-line version of Part One of "Howl", (which I reduced for the occasion), and Michael will be reading a text called “For The Death of 100 Whales” (an early ecological cry, dating back to the mid '50's), that he read at the same reading, in 1955 San Francisco..which was..in a small gallery, the Six Gallery, which was a converted garage on Fillmore Street, where (Kenneth) Rexroth was the introducer (and) Gary Snyder read his first“Berry Feast”  text and the first part of “Myths and Texts”, which he’d already begun. Philip Lamantiaread poems by a dead hippy peyote-suicide in Mexico, John Hoffman, (from the) early 50’s, Philip Whalen read "Sourdough Mountain Lookout" poem which is now in the Don Allen anthology. I read "Howl" Part One for the first time. (Jack) Kerouac was in the audience passing out wine and Neal Cassady from this area (Denver) was also helping pass out some grass. This is like a 1976 cartoon-esque reduction. 
[Allen begins this reading with this edited version of his classic poem, "Howl"

Michael McClure begins his reading (as announced) with "For The Death of 100 Whales" [the text is available here, leading of a small self-selected collection of McClure's poems] and follows it with "Poem" ('linked part to part toe to knee eye to thumb motile feral...") and "Night Words: The Ravishing" [the texts for both these poems can be found here]   

Allen takes over (approximately 16 and a quarter minutes in) - "So this first half we're going to continue reading stuff from the (19)50's, and I'm going back now to 1953, to New York, before coming out to California, before coming under Buddhist influence - "My Alba" - I was reading Ezra Pound who had a little morning wake-up song, and I was working in New York as a market-researcher, trying to fit into 1953's..propriety" - [Allen reads "My Alba"]
"Kerouac was writing, where he was staying with Neal Cassady around 1953, that he had been reading The Diamond Sutra, reading about Sakyamuni Buddha, and I went to the New York Public Library to look up Buddhist pictures in old Chinese picture books and found a.. Southern Sung painting of Sakyamuni, the historical Buddha, who had been practicing austerities, coming out of the mountain, so it's called "Sakyamuni Coming Out Of The Mountain", the picture, and I wrote a description of the picture to send to Kerouac to show him that I was keeping up with him on Buddhism (and, at the time, actually, I was keeping up on a weird American form of Zen, as practiced by William Carlos Williams, who said, "Pay attention to what's close to your nose", "Keep your mind focused, and fixed on "No ideas but in (the) things" themselves"). So I was interpreting Sakyamuni's experience of having sought for austerities and an abstract enlightenment (except his picture shows him as follows..)" [Allen then reads "Sakyamuni Coming Out Of The Mountain"] 



"Then a longing to go see old companions. I wrote a poem, mapping in the imagination ("the land of blessedness exists in the imagination" - so, thinking of that, I said, well, I'll imagine what I want to do. I'll invent a vehicle so that I can go, get out of New York, get away from my market-research job, and come to..Denver!" [Allen then reads "The Green Automobile"] 

Next is McClure - a 1951 ballad (after William Blake) - "My mother said to me tonight that I am dead ten years.." - followed by (from 6 years later), the "first third" of his "para-journalistic poem", his "Peyote Poem", and one more "little poem" ["The Robe" - ("Sleepwalkers... Ghosts!, Voices/ like bodies coming through the mists of sleep..")] 

Allen picks up the narrative. "At this point I went up to San Jose, from New York, through Mexico to San Jose, California, staying with Neal Cassady and his wife, and spent several months writing little poems and getting mail from William Burroughs, who was just putting together the "Doctor Benway" routines of "Naked Lunch" , which he sent. So (I) wrote (a) short poem - "On Burroughs' Work"" [Allen reads "On Burroughs' Work].
"In that same situation - "Love Poem On  Theme by Whitman" [Allen reads "Love Poem On Theme by Whitman"] - It was more imagination, actually, because it never took place. So the alternative was sadness. [Allen reads "Song"("The weight of the world/is love..")] - 

McClure next reads "a couple of sections" from his long erotic poem,"Dark Brown". Allen, not to be left out: "Well, despite my lack-love, I was beginning to make-out too!" - Malest Cornifici Tuo Catullo - an English-American language rendering of the quantitative vowels of the Catullus poem - [Allen reads "Malest Cornifici Tuo Catullo", followed by ("so then the retrospective on the poverty-tragedy previously) "Dream Record, June 8, 1955")] - "Dream Record, June 8 1955 (is) a dream vision of the late Joan Burroughs". "Then..moved into Berkeley and wrote a poem which I chopped in half and published in two separate parts in different books, one in Reality Sandwiches and one in Howl, so I'll put them together. They were written on the same page, but they were.. they seemed.. at the momen, at the time when I edited it, to be in..of different subject-matters, but, by hindsight, I see that they were related, so I can put them together, having survived that time" - [Allen reads "A Strange New Cottage in Berkeley" and "A Supermarket in California"]

Michael McClure concludes the first half of the program with "a couple of poems..in beast language" ("from the early '60's, not the 1950's" - from Ghost Tantras) - beginning with recitation of a few lines from Chaucer -  
Anne Waldman announces a ten-minute break (and gives news of upcoming John Ashbery-Dick Gallup reading). After the break, Allen continues:

AG: To confirm the breakthroughs, psychological discoveries, entrances into our own body that both Michael and I were talking about - which is like Charles Olson, the poet in Maximus Poems, saying, "I have a feeling that I am at one with my skin" - is that the phrase? - "I am at one with my own skin"..as Michael.. inhabited his own nerves and his own body - and I - "Yes, yes,/ that's what/ I wanted/ I always wanted,/ I always wanted.."

"Sather Gate Illumination - Sather Gate is Berkeley. This, being 1956, exploring that new sense of self-possession - [ Allen reads "Sather Gate Illumination" and "Tears" - "this brief "Tears" will be the last thing that I'll be reading, and then I'm going to read.. ten minutes each. I've done a set, Michael will do a set of ten, I'll do another set of ten. And in this last, I'll read poems from the last two months, a song from the past year, and poems from the last few days (sic). Another jump in time, a leap.. great.. (missing) gaps of time." - Michael McClure introduces his set reading (briefly) from "Jaguar Skies" before tape concludes.  



Internet Archive breaks down the reading into two tapes. This second (shorter) segment begins, picking up with Michael McClure reciting from Jaguar Skies - "A Breath" - ("HOW/ SWEET/ TO/ BE/ A/ ROSE/ BY/ CANDLE/ LIGHT/ or/ a/ worm/ by/ full/ moon."... "Nature loves/ the absence of/ mistakes. "), before Allen comes in (approximately 35-40 seconds in)

AG: "What I'll do is sing... I want to read... three poems written in the last couple of weeks and then (I'll) sing two songs (so I'll get all this ready) to proceed - "To My Father", or "Of My Father, Louis" - [Allen proceeds to read a very early draft of two sections of "Don't Grow Old" (Section 1) - "I read my father Wordsworth's "Tintern Abbey" (sic).." - and (Section 4) - "Will that happen to me?/ Of course, it'll happen to thee.."] - followed by a(n) (unpublished) dream transcription - "This last poem, written two nights ago, I'd like to dedicate to the illustrious prose-writer WilliamSeward Burroughs Junior, who is here - a dream I had of a condition that he recently dreamed - "I came out in my business-suit..."    

So, two.. to finish, two quasi-.. two Buddhist presentations - Guru Blues, (an old favorite around Boulder, at this point, which is, 1975 -  a dream, actually the first stanza's another dream, literally, the first and last stanzas which are the same, written in dream-state, and then copied on waking) - [Allen proceeds to sing, accompanied by harmonium, "Guru Blues" - and immediately follows it (likewise accompanied) with a rousing rendition of  "Gospel Noble Truths"  

Allen's set concludes approximately 15-and-a-half minutes in. Michael McClure concludes the reading with "one last poem"  (following a detailed introduction) - reading his long poem, "Antechamber" - ("I  am a mammal patriot").
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