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YOUR DOG
DIES
it gets run over by a van.
you find it at the side of the road
and bury it.
you feel bad about it.
you feel bad personally,
but you feel bad for your daughter
because it was her pet,
and she loved it so.
she used to croon to it
and let it sleep in her bed.
you write a poem about it.
you call it a poem for your daughter,
about the dog getting run over by a van
and how you looked after it,
took it out into the woods
and buried it deep, deep,
and that poem turns out so good
you're almost glad the little dog
was run over, or else you'd never
have written that good poem.
then you sit down to write
a poem about writing a poem
about the death of that dog,
but while you're writing you
hear a woman scream
your name, your first name,
both syllables,
and your heart stops.
after a minute, you continue writing.
she screams again.
you wonder how long this can go on. |
—Raymond Carver,
from
Fires |
more
poems online
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Charles Bukowski
Considered a sexist neanderathal by some, idolized by many more, Buk's is
a no-bullshit approach to verse. Tough talk, casual sex, classical music,
alcohol, horseraces, and cigarettes are the props which adorn his celebrations
of the seamier side of life, a caustic wit and cutting tongue are the weapons
in his war on hypocrites. Whatever your politics, there's no denying that
this is compelling poetry, perhaps because it confronts its author's
admitted wretchedness stripped of the usual trappings of polite language,
fake graces, and Poetry with a capital P. Don't bother trying to find him
at your local public library--either they consider him pornographic or somebody
has already stolen all the copies.
[ reviews of novels by charles bukowski
] |
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Raymond Carver
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Fires: Essays, Poems, Stories
As spare as they are, most of Carver's short stories strike me as a bit
long-winded. Not so his poetry, which treat his usual themes--alcoholism,
working-class poverty, and rocky relationships--with greater wit and vigor
than his prose. The essays will be of interest to would-be writers
and Carver biographers, but what makes this book outstanding is the 60 pages
of poetry which comprise its heart.
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A New Path to the Waterfall: Last Poems
Assembled during the final days of Carver's battle with cancer at the age
of 51, there's not an ounce of fat on this book. The poems are urgent
and moving, bold as poetry can be only when there is nothing left to
lose and no time left in which to lose it. Carver also let go of ego, including
versified snippets of
Chekhov as well as entire poems and translations
from
Jaroslav Seifert and
Czeslaw Milosz.
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Gregory Corso
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Gasoline
So many grown-ups in their sophistication and death of idealism dispel reading
the Beats as an adolescent exercise, nice for its time but out of step with
the plodding realities of romanceless existence to which they are resigned.
But it's hard to pick up an
Orlovsky or
Ginsberg or
Corso or
Kerouac and not be inspired oneself to scribe the
details of the instant before it slips into the distance, so if you're looking
for some portable inspiration unencumbered by "messages" or a political agenda,
Gasoline is a nifty pocket edition perfect for carrying around
and grazing at bus stops and post office box, complete with a couple of blank
pages at the back whereon to tell your own story, lid on the top of your
head loosened by a deft turn of phrase and vision of obviously miraculous
which you might not otherwise have noticed.
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| Allen Ginsberg |
One of Eric Drooker's extraordinary
illustrations |
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Illuminated Poems
illustrated by
Eric Drooker
In the tradition of
William Blake, sumptuous paintings and drawings
complement rather than describe the poems. Chosen by Drooker, the selections
reflect the painter's political activism, but "Howl," "Sunflower Sutra,"
and "On Neal's Ashes" all are here, as are other lesser-known poems such
as "When the Light Appears," which is featured on the Cornershop album
When I Was Born for the 7th Time.
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Howl and Other Poems
Perhaps the most famous poem of the 20th century, Howl was
inspired by fellow San Franciscan
Kenneth Rexroth's "Thou Shalt Not Kill," a lament
for poets such as
Dylan Thomas and
Hart Crane who were driven to self-destruction
by the vulgarity of the first half of the 20th century; these are the "best
minds of my generation destroyed by madness" of Howl's much-quoted
opening line. They hadn't seen anything yet.
Ginsberg went crazy, too, but rather than having his mind destroyed he found
an outlet in expansive verse which he considered sheet music for breathing,
through which the reader assumes the spirit (from the latin spiritus, for
breath) of the poet when the poem is read aloud. At least that's how he described
it when I took his Literature of the Beats class at Brooklyn College in spring
1994.
This is the original little square City Lights edition which rode in the
pockets of beatniks and hippies all through the '50s and '60s, complete with
introduction by Ginsberg's mentor and fellow
Paterson resident,
William Carlos Williams. Read it for yourself
and decide whether or not Moloch "...whose mind is pure machinery! Moloch
whose blood is running money! Moloch whose fingers are ten armies! Moloch
whose breast is a cannibal dynamo! Moloch whose ear is a smoking tomb..."
still walks among us.
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Peter
Orlovsky
Clean Asshole Poems & Smiling Vegetable
Songs
Funny poems from Allen Ginsberg's lover.
Like old Ezra
Pound, Orlovsky eschewed proper spelling in deference to word essence.
Soul is connection between mouth and asshole, empty without both, all parts
of meat vehicle and cosmic connections celebrated here. Orlovsky's anatomical
candor resonates with soapy wiping station in Kerouac's
Dharma Bums (no pun?) and Burroughs' famous line from
Naked Lunch: Gentle Reader, we glimpse god through our
assholes in the flashbulb of orgasm. This is a sweet little pocket-sized
book, out of print, admired by Williams,
assigned by Allen Ginsberg in his Beat Lit class at Brooklyn College. Let
it tickle you.
CAT HAIKU (p. 70):
Cat throughing up in all the rooms
Is that my heaven to clean
up vomit
well! here I am in the city tickling floors
[ read Good Fuck with Denise from
Clean Asshole Poems... ] |
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Phil Rizzuto
O
Holy Cow!: The Selected Verse of Phil Rizzuto
Phil "The Scooter" Rizzuto was shortstop during 1950's Yankees dynasty, later
became "Voice of Yankees" on WPIX local NYC radio and TV stations. His was
the fatherliness I never had in the home. This book is broadcast transcripts
broken into linebreaks making true American poetry. Example:
...You know, it might,
It might sound corny.
But we have the most beautiful full moon tonight.
And the crowd,
Enjoying whatever is going on right now.
They say it might sound corny,
But to me it's some kind of a,
Like an omen.
Both the moon and Thurman Munson,
Both ascending up into heaven.
I just can't get it out of my mind.
I just saw that full moon,
And it just reminded me of Thurman.
And that's it.
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August 6, 1979
Baltimore at New York
Ron Guidry pitching to Lee May
Fifth inning, bases empty, no outs
Orioles lead 1-0 |
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