Gregory Corso (1) (1930–2001)

This is my first time reading Corso. Although I have never been a dedicated admirer of poetry as a literary style -- in this case -- I was inspired. And I hope this work will influence my own writing. The impressions conveyed by these poems are visual-visceral; sometimes raw, but rarely disgusting à la W. S. Burroughs. Corso's compound-word-creations and word-play-deconstructions provide great embellishment to his unique style. At first, Corso's stream of consciousness reminded me of Kerouac, but Corso goes more for the jugular via his servings of brute reality "samples" -- he is fully submerged in the realm of the subjective. That being said, he can be just as ethereal as he is blunt.

I especially enjoyed Corso's geopolitical views via "The American Way" (which foresees the rise of Evangelism and the decline of USA in general) -- and, in the same vein, "America Politica Historia, In Spontaneity". Other highlights include "Work" from "Triptych: Friend, Work, World", and the Egyptology-inspired drawings of "The Geometric Poem". "The Geometric Poem" appears in Corso's handwritten script and is often barely legible -- ultimately, I prefer the scribblings of "The Geometric Poem" over the text -- those drawings remind me of the album jacket liner artwork of the Jefferson Airplane's 1967 psychedelic masterpiece, "After Bathing at Baxer's". I'm giving this collection 5 stars because although I did not love the text unconditionally or unanimously -- what I did enjoy, which was the bulk of it, I found to be superlative. In closing -- I'm happy to have run across "Elegiac Feelings American", and I look forward to reading more of Corso's work.… (mais)

Gregory Corso's poem "Marriage" resonated deeply with my 10th grade self. I can still summon excellent turns of phrases by memory. While most of his poems contain the roots of brilliant ideas, or consonant phrases that beg to be spoken aloud, the truth is there is a reason he is a lesser known beat-poet. He, like Bukowski, is allergic to revising, preferring to represent his drug-addled ruminations in their rawest unedited forms. His rawness too often comes across as feigned, over-wrought, self-congratulatory, or petulant. This collection of his later poems is so strivingly artless that I find it embarrassing to even read.… (mais)