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The Fall of America: Poems of These States 1965-1971
National Book Award for Poetry, 1973
Beginning with "long poem of these States," The Fall of America continues Planet News chronicle tape-recorded scribed by hand or sung condensed, the flux of car bus airplane dream consciousness Person during Automated Electronic War years, newspaper headline radio brain auto poesy & silent desk musings, headline flashing on road through these states of consciousness. . . .
Beginning with "long poem of these States," The Fall of America continues Planet News chronicle tape-recorded scribed by hand or sung condensed, the flux of car bus airplane dream consciousness Person during Automated Electronic War years, newspaper headline radio brain auto poesy & silent desk musings, headline flashing on road through these states of consciousness. . . .
188 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 1972
About the author
Allen Ginsberg
427 books3,890 followersLong incantatory works and books of known American poet Irwin Allen Ginsberg, a leading figure of the Beat Generation, include
Howl
(1956) and
Kaddish
(1961).
Naomi Ginsberg bore Irwin Allen Ginsberg, a son, to Louis Ginsberg, a Jewish member of the New York literary counterculture of the 1920s. They reared Ginsberg among several progressive political perspectives. Mental health of Naomi Ginsberg, a nudist, who supported the Communist party, concerned people throughout the childhood of the poet. According to biographer Barry Miles, "Naomi's illness gave Allen an enormous empathy and tolerance for madness, neurosis, and psychosis."
As an adolescent, Ginsberg savored Walt Whitman, though in 1939, when Ginsberg graduated high school, he considered Edgar Allan Poe his favorite poet. Eager to follow a childhood hero who had received a scholarship to Columbia University, Ginsberg made a vow that if he got into the school he would devote his life to helping the working class, a cause he took seriously over the course of the next several years.
He was admitted to Columbia University, and as a student there in the 1940s, he began close friendships with William S. Burroughs, Neal Cassady, and Jack Kerouac, all of whom later became leading figures of the Beat movement. The group led Ginsberg to a "New Vision," which he defined in his journal: "Since art is merely and ultimately self-expressive, we conclude that the fullest art, the most individual, uninfluenced, unrepressed, uninhibited expression of art is true expression and the true art."
Around this time, Ginsberg also had what he referred to as his "Blake vision," an auditory hallucination of William Blake reading his poems "Ah Sunflower," "The Sick Rose," and "Little Girl Lost." Ginsberg noted the occurrence several times as a pivotal moment for him in his comprehension of the universe, affecting fundamental beliefs about his life and his work. While Ginsberg claimed that no drugs were involved, he later stated that he used various drugs in an attempt to recapture the feelings inspired by the vision.
In 1954, Ginsberg moved to San Francisco. His mentor, William Carlos Williams, introduced him to key figures in the San Francisco poetry scene, including Kenneth Rexroth. He also met Michael McClure, who handed off the duties of curating a reading for the newly-established "6" Gallery. With the help of Rexroth, the result was "The '6' Gallery Reading" which took place on October 7, 1955. The event has been hailed as the birth of the Beat Generation, in no small part because it was also the first public reading of Ginsberg's "Howl," a poem which garnered world-wide attention for him and the poets he associated with.
Shortly after Howl and Other Poems was published in 1956 by City Lights Bookstore, it was banned for obscenity. The work overcame censorship trials, however, and became one of the most widely read poems of the century, translated into more than twenty-two languages.
In the 1960s and 70s, Ginsberg studied under gurus and Zen masters. As the leading icon of the Beats, Ginsberg was involved in countless political activities, including protests against the Vietnam War, and he spoke openly about issues that concerned him, such as free speech and gay rights agendas.
Ginsberg went on publish numerous collections of poetry, including Kaddish and Other Poems (1961), Planet News (1968), and The Fall of America: Poems of These States (1973), which won the National Book Award.
In 1993, Ginsberg received the Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres (the Order of Arts and Letters) from the French Minister of Culture. He also co-founded and directed the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Colorado. In his later years, Ginsberg became a Distinguished Professor at Brooklyn College.
On April 5, 1997, in New York City, he died from complications of hepatitis.
Naomi Ginsberg bore Irwin Allen Ginsberg, a son, to Louis Ginsberg, a Jewish member of the New York literary counterculture of the 1920s. They reared Ginsberg among several progressive political perspectives. Mental health of Naomi Ginsberg, a nudist, who supported the Communist party, concerned people throughout the childhood of the poet. According to biographer Barry Miles, "Naomi's illness gave Allen an enormous empathy and tolerance for madness, neurosis, and psychosis."
As an adolescent, Ginsberg savored Walt Whitman, though in 1939, when Ginsberg graduated high school, he considered Edgar Allan Poe his favorite poet. Eager to follow a childhood hero who had received a scholarship to Columbia University, Ginsberg made a vow that if he got into the school he would devote his life to helping the working class, a cause he took seriously over the course of the next several years.
He was admitted to Columbia University, and as a student there in the 1940s, he began close friendships with William S. Burroughs, Neal Cassady, and Jack Kerouac, all of whom later became leading figures of the Beat movement. The group led Ginsberg to a "New Vision," which he defined in his journal: "Since art is merely and ultimately self-expressive, we conclude that the fullest art, the most individual, uninfluenced, unrepressed, uninhibited expression of art is true expression and the true art."
Around this time, Ginsberg also had what he referred to as his "Blake vision," an auditory hallucination of William Blake reading his poems "Ah Sunflower," "The Sick Rose," and "Little Girl Lost." Ginsberg noted the occurrence several times as a pivotal moment for him in his comprehension of the universe, affecting fundamental beliefs about his life and his work. While Ginsberg claimed that no drugs were involved, he later stated that he used various drugs in an attempt to recapture the feelings inspired by the vision.
In 1954, Ginsberg moved to San Francisco. His mentor, William Carlos Williams, introduced him to key figures in the San Francisco poetry scene, including Kenneth Rexroth. He also met Michael McClure, who handed off the duties of curating a reading for the newly-established "6" Gallery. With the help of Rexroth, the result was "The '6' Gallery Reading" which took place on October 7, 1955. The event has been hailed as the birth of the Beat Generation, in no small part because it was also the first public reading of Ginsberg's "Howl," a poem which garnered world-wide attention for him and the poets he associated with.
Shortly after Howl and Other Poems was published in 1956 by City Lights Bookstore, it was banned for obscenity. The work overcame censorship trials, however, and became one of the most widely read poems of the century, translated into more than twenty-two languages.
In the 1960s and 70s, Ginsberg studied under gurus and Zen masters. As the leading icon of the Beats, Ginsberg was involved in countless political activities, including protests against the Vietnam War, and he spoke openly about issues that concerned him, such as free speech and gay rights agendas.
Ginsberg went on publish numerous collections of poetry, including Kaddish and Other Poems (1961), Planet News (1968), and The Fall of America: Poems of These States (1973), which won the National Book Award.
In 1993, Ginsberg received the Chevalier des Arts et des Lettres (the Order of Arts and Letters) from the French Minister of Culture. He also co-founded and directed the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute in Colorado. In his later years, Ginsberg became a Distinguished Professor at Brooklyn College.
On April 5, 1997, in New York City, he died from complications of hepatitis.
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June 6, 2015
TERMINATED FOR READING AN ALLEN GINSBERG POEM?
By Peter Hart | June 4, 2015
sw-ginsberg
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To hear many students and colleagues tell it, David Olio is a wonderful high school English teacher.
Not anymore.
In February two students complained about an Allen Ginsberg poem that, at the request of a fellow student, was shared in Olio's AP English class at South Windsor High School in Connecticut. A media uproar followed, and Olio was essentially forced to resign.
Most of the facts do not appear to be in dispute – and are more nuanced than the 'students forced to read shocking homoerotic poem' media narrative. The overriding question is whether a celebrated teacher with nearly two decades of experience should be forced from the classroom for a single decision – even if one views that decision as a lapse in judgment.
During a class discussion of gratuitous language, a student raised questions about the Ginsberg poem, "Please Master." The piece was undoubtedly relevant to the discussion; it is also an exceptionally graphic account of a sexual encounter between two men.
So it is not shocking that the story quickly became fodder for local media. "South Windsor Teacher Reads Graphic Poem About Gay Sex to Classroom" read one headline, with the story saying students were "subjected" to the poem. A TV newscast warned viewers the piece was "too graphic to detail in almost any part," and bizarrely noted that the local police were not involved in the investigation.
School officials reacted swiftly: Olio was suspended immediately while the board started its investigation. Scores of current and former students and co-workers spoke up in his defense, but in April he bowed to pressure to resign.
It would take weeks for more thoughtful articles to appear. In Slate, Mark Joseph Stern wrote that while "Please Master" is "discomfiting and profane, an explicit account of a fantasized sexual encounter," one should bear in mind the audience, and the literary meaning of the piece:
This isn't kid stuff. But these weren't kids; they were 17- and 18-year-olds less than a year from college. And as graphic as “Please Master” is, it’s certainly not obscene or lacking in artistic merit.
He added that the poem "is not a dirty work—it is a dangerous one: Dangerous because it dares to find beauty in sodomy; dangerous because it juxtaposes tenderness with masochism; dangerous because it rapturously celebrates a vision of same-sex intimacy we are only supposed to whisper about."
A piece in the Daily Beast teased out some of the broader implications for public education, arguing that some see it as emblematic of "a changing culture around education, one in which teachers are on a hair trigger vulnerable to losing their livelihoods."
One of Olio's former colleagues, science teacher Clyde Selner – who described the poem as "a repulsive ode to sodomy" – argued that Olio "is one of the best teachers I ever worked with. He is committed to the school community and as an educator personified South Windsor High School's mission, vision and expectations statements."
Or consider the account from a parent at the school, who described the school board meeting to discuss the Olio case as watching "person after person, including present students, speak about how inspirational Mr. Olio is as a teacher."
The parent added:
I feel sorry for the future students who will miss the opportunity to be inspired by Mr. Olio. I also feel sorry for the remaining teachers who will undoubtedly feel like they need to censor themselves, even at the collegiate class level, in light of the one strike and you’re out policy we appear to have adopted.
That would appear to be the most dangerous lesson that might be learned from the Olio saga.
By Peter Hart | June 4, 2015
sw-ginsberg
FacebookTwitterGoogle+Share
To hear many students and colleagues tell it, David Olio is a wonderful high school English teacher.
Not anymore.
In February two students complained about an Allen Ginsberg poem that, at the request of a fellow student, was shared in Olio's AP English class at South Windsor High School in Connecticut. A media uproar followed, and Olio was essentially forced to resign.
Most of the facts do not appear to be in dispute – and are more nuanced than the 'students forced to read shocking homoerotic poem' media narrative. The overriding question is whether a celebrated teacher with nearly two decades of experience should be forced from the classroom for a single decision – even if one views that decision as a lapse in judgment.
During a class discussion of gratuitous language, a student raised questions about the Ginsberg poem, "Please Master." The piece was undoubtedly relevant to the discussion; it is also an exceptionally graphic account of a sexual encounter between two men.
So it is not shocking that the story quickly became fodder for local media. "South Windsor Teacher Reads Graphic Poem About Gay Sex to Classroom" read one headline, with the story saying students were "subjected" to the poem. A TV newscast warned viewers the piece was "too graphic to detail in almost any part," and bizarrely noted that the local police were not involved in the investigation.
School officials reacted swiftly: Olio was suspended immediately while the board started its investigation. Scores of current and former students and co-workers spoke up in his defense, but in April he bowed to pressure to resign.
It would take weeks for more thoughtful articles to appear. In Slate, Mark Joseph Stern wrote that while "Please Master" is "discomfiting and profane, an explicit account of a fantasized sexual encounter," one should bear in mind the audience, and the literary meaning of the piece:
This isn't kid stuff. But these weren't kids; they were 17- and 18-year-olds less than a year from college. And as graphic as “Please Master” is, it’s certainly not obscene or lacking in artistic merit.
He added that the poem "is not a dirty work—it is a dangerous one: Dangerous because it dares to find beauty in sodomy; dangerous because it juxtaposes tenderness with masochism; dangerous because it rapturously celebrates a vision of same-sex intimacy we are only supposed to whisper about."
A piece in the Daily Beast teased out some of the broader implications for public education, arguing that some see it as emblematic of "a changing culture around education, one in which teachers are on a hair trigger vulnerable to losing their livelihoods."
One of Olio's former colleagues, science teacher Clyde Selner – who described the poem as "a repulsive ode to sodomy" – argued that Olio "is one of the best teachers I ever worked with. He is committed to the school community and as an educator personified South Windsor High School's mission, vision and expectations statements."
Or consider the account from a parent at the school, who described the school board meeting to discuss the Olio case as watching "person after person, including present students, speak about how inspirational Mr. Olio is as a teacher."
The parent added:
I feel sorry for the future students who will miss the opportunity to be inspired by Mr. Olio. I also feel sorry for the remaining teachers who will undoubtedly feel like they need to censor themselves, even at the collegiate class level, in light of the one strike and you’re out policy we appear to have adopted.
That would appear to be the most dangerous lesson that might be learned from the Olio saga.
August 9, 2017
In a way, this collection reads like Whitman's "Leaves of Grass": list after list of everything American with a bit of praise for love of flesh/one's self (taken to an X-rated level by Ginsberg, so if you enjoyed looking for erotic references in Whitman's work, you'll find it here quickly and very often). And during this time period (1965 to 1971), Ginsberg is experiencing, and writing about, a rather violent America, about 100 years after Whitman's own violent take in his "Drum Taps" collection within "Leaves": Whitman howls with rage and pain resulting from America's Civil War. while Ginsberg does the same with the Viet Nam war. One of Ginsberg's best poems here, written in 1968 and entitled "A Prohecy" is frighteningly prescient (and runs just 1/2 page) : "...I sing out of mind jail in New York State...Dear breaths and eyes shine in the skies where rockets rise..." This volume might be Ginsberg's longest, and has numerous poems which go on for pages and pages, thus losing (for me) the power of what might have been a great idea/thought. And (for me) that was the main flaw of "Leaves of Grass". While both Ginsberg and Whitman rage against a violent America, both also praise the freedoms we do have, and much of these freedoms, in both works, involves glorious, exhilarating road trips, not to mention sexuality. "Fall of America" and "Leaves of Grass", taken together, form two interesting views of America, 100 years apart.
July 22, 2013
This collection of poems is a continuation of "Planet News," a collection of Ginsberg's that I have yet to read. I don't think there is any necessity to read the collections chronologically however, though I will likely pick up a copy of "Planet News" next time I come across one.
This work is dedicated to Walt Whitman and rightfully so. Included in the dedication page is a lengthy excerpt from Whitman's "Democratic Vistas," and in this passage are lines that really capture what Ginsberg seemed to be trying to do in this collection: "It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence of fervid comradeship . . . that I look for the counterbalance and offset of our materialistic and vulgar American democracy, and for the spiritualization thereof." Ginsberg's intent seems to be very similar, but the America Ginsberg confronts is much cruder than that of Whitman, a mechanized world of "machine chaos," cold technology, shiny hard plastics, "robot obsession" and unjust wars beamed onto our living room television sets. It's the country with a "paranoiac" president (Nixon), a nation "full of Pricks" that will be remembered in the annals of history as "a nasty little Country" if it continues down the same path it is on. It is a country on a "sick sweet planet," where poverty spreads, where the air is polluted (as Ginsberg writes in "Wings Lifted Over the Black Pit": "Living like beasts,/befouling out own nests,/Smoke & Steam, broken glass & beer cans,/Civilization shit littering the streets . . ."), and indifference reigns king.
Written between 1965 and 1971, there was much material for Ginsberg to draw from, all of which undoubtedly influenced his pessimism. The assassination of JFK took place before these poems were written, but though this violence likely shaped Ginsberg to some extent, as it did most people, closer to Ginsberg were the premature deaths of Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac (poems to the memory of each are contained in this work). Other events that rightly disturbed Ginsberg during this time were: the war in Vietnam, the moon landing (I read this poem on the anniversary of the moon landing, coincidentally), environmental destruction all over the world (and particularly so in the Rust Belt) and extreme poverty.
The work begins with "Beginning of a Poem of These States," the most Whitmanesque of the poems in this collection and takes the reader on a journey to the polluted Cleveland Flats (my hometown), to Mannahatta, to the Windy City, to Denver where Kerouac wrote in 1948 "all I did was die," to Northern California and back, with many glimpses of the country between. The work ends far overseas on Jessore Road, a haunting chant poem in rhymed verse, where the extremes of poverty so chilled Ginsberg that he had to write about it to even try to make sense of the violence of poverty that he witnessed, sickened by indifference in the world: "What are our souls that we have lost care?" he asks. To quote the Scottish indie band Belle & Sebastian, "Is it wicked not to care? . . . Is it wicked when you smile/Even though you feel like crying/Even though you could be sick at any time?"
His vision of America is more polluted than Whitman's. It's harder for Ginsberg to see beyond the thick factory smoke and hear beyond the gunfire that penetrates his senses from the television screen that sends footage directly to him from the war in Vietnam. It's a materialistic and vulgar American democracy still, like it was for Whitman. It's the same in many ways, but it is also different. Ginsberg continues Whitman's legacy, and there is still hope (fading perhaps), but it is harder for him than it was for his predecessor to see the promise of what the future may bring. Whereas Whitman wrote, "Many will say [my vision] is a dream," for Ginsberg that dream has become ever more wild and unreal, ever more difficult to grasp, but a dream worth holding on to.
This work is dedicated to Walt Whitman and rightfully so. Included in the dedication page is a lengthy excerpt from Whitman's "Democratic Vistas," and in this passage are lines that really capture what Ginsberg seemed to be trying to do in this collection: "It is to the development, identification, and general prevalence of fervid comradeship . . . that I look for the counterbalance and offset of our materialistic and vulgar American democracy, and for the spiritualization thereof." Ginsberg's intent seems to be very similar, but the America Ginsberg confronts is much cruder than that of Whitman, a mechanized world of "machine chaos," cold technology, shiny hard plastics, "robot obsession" and unjust wars beamed onto our living room television sets. It's the country with a "paranoiac" president (Nixon), a nation "full of Pricks" that will be remembered in the annals of history as "a nasty little Country" if it continues down the same path it is on. It is a country on a "sick sweet planet," where poverty spreads, where the air is polluted (as Ginsberg writes in "Wings Lifted Over the Black Pit": "Living like beasts,/befouling out own nests,/Smoke & Steam, broken glass & beer cans,/Civilization shit littering the streets . . ."), and indifference reigns king.
Written between 1965 and 1971, there was much material for Ginsberg to draw from, all of which undoubtedly influenced his pessimism. The assassination of JFK took place before these poems were written, but though this violence likely shaped Ginsberg to some extent, as it did most people, closer to Ginsberg were the premature deaths of Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac (poems to the memory of each are contained in this work). Other events that rightly disturbed Ginsberg during this time were: the war in Vietnam, the moon landing (I read this poem on the anniversary of the moon landing, coincidentally), environmental destruction all over the world (and particularly so in the Rust Belt) and extreme poverty.
The work begins with "Beginning of a Poem of These States," the most Whitmanesque of the poems in this collection and takes the reader on a journey to the polluted Cleveland Flats (my hometown), to Mannahatta, to the Windy City, to Denver where Kerouac wrote in 1948 "all I did was die," to Northern California and back, with many glimpses of the country between. The work ends far overseas on Jessore Road, a haunting chant poem in rhymed verse, where the extremes of poverty so chilled Ginsberg that he had to write about it to even try to make sense of the violence of poverty that he witnessed, sickened by indifference in the world: "What are our souls that we have lost care?" he asks. To quote the Scottish indie band Belle & Sebastian, "Is it wicked not to care? . . . Is it wicked when you smile/Even though you feel like crying/Even though you could be sick at any time?"
His vision of America is more polluted than Whitman's. It's harder for Ginsberg to see beyond the thick factory smoke and hear beyond the gunfire that penetrates his senses from the television screen that sends footage directly to him from the war in Vietnam. It's a materialistic and vulgar American democracy still, like it was for Whitman. It's the same in many ways, but it is also different. Ginsberg continues Whitman's legacy, and there is still hope (fading perhaps), but it is harder for him than it was for his predecessor to see the promise of what the future may bring. Whereas Whitman wrote, "Many will say [my vision] is a dream," for Ginsberg that dream has become ever more wild and unreal, ever more difficult to grasp, but a dream worth holding on to.
March 2, 2023
On rereading, confirmed my sense that this is Ginsberg at peak. I've been writing about the late Sixties and it's fascinating to be able to decode the many references to contemporary events. Interesting that he doesn't say anything about Stonewall--he visited the scene while it was happening--and that there's relatively little on the 1968 Chicago Democratic Convention where he played an important part, trying to calm the violence.
Ginsberg at his most Allen. The best of these poems, which chronicle his perambulations back and forth across the US (and on to Asia and the Universe), contain some of his best work in the long line Whitman mode. The final section points ahead to the rhyming bard-ish style that comes to the foreground during the last couple of decades of his life. That generally does less for me. What struck me on this re-reading, which took place against the backdrop of the epically depressing 2016 election campaign, was how weary Ginsberg was at the end of the 60s. The manic visionary energy that carried him through the 60s was running down by the start of the 70s and there are many moments when his first (not necessarily best) thought was that the planet might be better off if humanity just went ahead and did itself in.
Ginsberg at his most Allen. The best of these poems, which chronicle his perambulations back and forth across the US (and on to Asia and the Universe), contain some of his best work in the long line Whitman mode. The final section points ahead to the rhyming bard-ish style that comes to the foreground during the last couple of decades of his life. That generally does less for me. What struck me on this re-reading, which took place against the backdrop of the epically depressing 2016 election campaign, was how weary Ginsberg was at the end of the 60s. The manic visionary energy that carried him through the 60s was running down by the start of the 70s and there are many moments when his first (not necessarily best) thought was that the planet might be better off if humanity just went ahead and did itself in.
October 9, 2020
Not to be confused with the poetry collection that derived from the thoughts, drafts, and dreams contained herein, this is an edited and annotated journal from that period. In addition to drafts of poems from that collection, the journal includes prose descriptions of both real world and dream world events – as well as various notes Ginsberg made to himself. In addition to fans of Ginsberg and Beat poetry, the primary audience for this book will be poets and others with curiosity about how the [poetic] sausage gets made.
Many of the entries contained in this volume are dream journaling. That is significant both because one can see how dream images worked into Ginsberg’s poems, but also because it is crucial to understanding Ginsberg’s approach to poetry – an approach which highly valued the subconscious mind. One can see this in a June 6, 1966 entry in which Ginsberg, after complimenting Bob Dylan’s poetry, goes on to work through why he thinks Dylan’s lyrics are so effective. Saying, “…he takes no thought for superficial logic but reads into his mind like a Rorschach blot.” Drilling down into deep and unconscious bits of the mind is crucial to Ginsberg’s poetry, and may hint at why he was so drawn to the Buddhist and yogic teachers who were undisputed masters of this domain of the mind. Some might accuse those who attempt to tap into this stream-of-consciousness of being lazy, but it really is a challenge to draw from that mystical well. An April 8, 1969 journal entry tells of a dreamt meeting between Ginsberg and a collector of literary memorabilia. The two were looking over a Hemingway manuscript, and it says, “We talk ‘Hemingway wasn’t such a good writer,’ I guess, after seeing plodding paper of manuscript.” [It’s not clear whether this is the stated opinion of Ginsberg, the collector, both, or even whether Ginsberg remembered that detail.] Of course, Hemingway thought drafts were to writing as lumping together clay was to sculpting. [At least, I’d guess as much from Hemingway’s famous quote, “The first draft of anything is shit.”] These are very different approaches to the craft of putting words on paper – writer as shaman versus writer as sculptor. [Note: it’s not that Ginsberg didn’t believe in editing. Owners of “The Fall of America” collection might compare its poems to the drafts herein. It’s just a matter of giving more weight to respecting the voice tapped into and less to the pruning and shaping process.]
The poems include those of political protest, confessionals, calls to Eastern spirituality, image-centric poems from travels in America and abroad, poems that aren’t readily categorized, elegies, and ones that are some combination of the above. It was an intense period for Ginsberg both as one of society’s dissenting voices as well as a private person. The former because the war in Vietnam continued to be a charnel house for America’s youth and because the psychedelia witnessed a sharp turn from laissez-faire conditions to an outright war on drugs. The latter because of untimely deaths of some of his close friends, a couple of whom were also major figures in Beat literature, i.e. Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac (both of whom died in their 40’s.) This makes for a number doleful or angry poems. However, one can also see times – particular in the last couple years covered by the volume – where Ginsberg shifts tone to one more reflective of the yogic / Buddhist thought process. Perhaps, rage can only burn so bright and so long, or maybe those spiritual lessons were taking root.
At its best, Ginsberg’s poetry is mystically transcendent, caustically burning, or brutally candid. It takes one on a journey to scenic places and through a turbulent time. History is embedded in these journals because so much of Ginsberg’s subject matter is a reaction to what was going on in America at the time: politically, legally / judicially, and diplomatically. One can feel the influence of Blake and Whitman throughout. At its worst, Ginsberg’s poetry reads a little like either collected snippets from the news or a personal to-do list. However, if one is interested enough to read the poet’s journals, one will probably find these lines provide insight into his work and the forces that shaped him. There are few (not many) cryptic notes that will separate the super-fans from those of us who can only guess what Ginsberg was trying to note. Those who aren’t familiar with Ginsberg’s work and who have delicate sensibilities regarding erotic matter should be aware that his homoerotic poetry is explicit, graphic, and widespread throughout.
I thought the editorial comments, which are clearly differentiated from Ginsberg’s text, pulled their own weight. There isn’t a lot of this editorial commentary, mostly a paragraph at the beginning of each year’s entry and then a few here and there throughout as needed to offer background. However, this text does offer valuable insight. For example, one sees toward the end of the volume that Ginsberg begins writing in lyric verse (rhymed and [roughly/musically] metered) verse from his usual free verse. [He also writes the occasional haiku, and more commonly in free verse informed by haiku’s Zen sensibilities.] Through commentary, one learns that Ginsberg went through a phase of being hyper-aware of how easily people picked up lyrics like those of Dylan, while few could recite poetry [particularly modern vers libre poems.] So, Ginsberg went through a period of musically recording Blake’s poems (many of which are memorable / recitable,) as well as writing more lyrical poetry himself. The footnotes were also useful, pointing out where final versions of poems were published and clueing readers into the people, places, and events referred to in Ginsberg’s entries. (Many of which were unfamiliar to me as no more than words.)
If you are poet or a fan of either Ginsberg or the Beats, generally, I’d highly recommend this book.
Many of the entries contained in this volume are dream journaling. That is significant both because one can see how dream images worked into Ginsberg’s poems, but also because it is crucial to understanding Ginsberg’s approach to poetry – an approach which highly valued the subconscious mind. One can see this in a June 6, 1966 entry in which Ginsberg, after complimenting Bob Dylan’s poetry, goes on to work through why he thinks Dylan’s lyrics are so effective. Saying, “…he takes no thought for superficial logic but reads into his mind like a Rorschach blot.” Drilling down into deep and unconscious bits of the mind is crucial to Ginsberg’s poetry, and may hint at why he was so drawn to the Buddhist and yogic teachers who were undisputed masters of this domain of the mind. Some might accuse those who attempt to tap into this stream-of-consciousness of being lazy, but it really is a challenge to draw from that mystical well. An April 8, 1969 journal entry tells of a dreamt meeting between Ginsberg and a collector of literary memorabilia. The two were looking over a Hemingway manuscript, and it says, “We talk ‘Hemingway wasn’t such a good writer,’ I guess, after seeing plodding paper of manuscript.” [It’s not clear whether this is the stated opinion of Ginsberg, the collector, both, or even whether Ginsberg remembered that detail.] Of course, Hemingway thought drafts were to writing as lumping together clay was to sculpting. [At least, I’d guess as much from Hemingway’s famous quote, “The first draft of anything is shit.”] These are very different approaches to the craft of putting words on paper – writer as shaman versus writer as sculptor. [Note: it’s not that Ginsberg didn’t believe in editing. Owners of “The Fall of America” collection might compare its poems to the drafts herein. It’s just a matter of giving more weight to respecting the voice tapped into and less to the pruning and shaping process.]
The poems include those of political protest, confessionals, calls to Eastern spirituality, image-centric poems from travels in America and abroad, poems that aren’t readily categorized, elegies, and ones that are some combination of the above. It was an intense period for Ginsberg both as one of society’s dissenting voices as well as a private person. The former because the war in Vietnam continued to be a charnel house for America’s youth and because the psychedelia witnessed a sharp turn from laissez-faire conditions to an outright war on drugs. The latter because of untimely deaths of some of his close friends, a couple of whom were also major figures in Beat literature, i.e. Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac (both of whom died in their 40’s.) This makes for a number doleful or angry poems. However, one can also see times – particular in the last couple years covered by the volume – where Ginsberg shifts tone to one more reflective of the yogic / Buddhist thought process. Perhaps, rage can only burn so bright and so long, or maybe those spiritual lessons were taking root.
At its best, Ginsberg’s poetry is mystically transcendent, caustically burning, or brutally candid. It takes one on a journey to scenic places and through a turbulent time. History is embedded in these journals because so much of Ginsberg’s subject matter is a reaction to what was going on in America at the time: politically, legally / judicially, and diplomatically. One can feel the influence of Blake and Whitman throughout. At its worst, Ginsberg’s poetry reads a little like either collected snippets from the news or a personal to-do list. However, if one is interested enough to read the poet’s journals, one will probably find these lines provide insight into his work and the forces that shaped him. There are few (not many) cryptic notes that will separate the super-fans from those of us who can only guess what Ginsberg was trying to note. Those who aren’t familiar with Ginsberg’s work and who have delicate sensibilities regarding erotic matter should be aware that his homoerotic poetry is explicit, graphic, and widespread throughout.
I thought the editorial comments, which are clearly differentiated from Ginsberg’s text, pulled their own weight. There isn’t a lot of this editorial commentary, mostly a paragraph at the beginning of each year’s entry and then a few here and there throughout as needed to offer background. However, this text does offer valuable insight. For example, one sees toward the end of the volume that Ginsberg begins writing in lyric verse (rhymed and [roughly/musically] metered) verse from his usual free verse. [He also writes the occasional haiku, and more commonly in free verse informed by haiku’s Zen sensibilities.] Through commentary, one learns that Ginsberg went through a phase of being hyper-aware of how easily people picked up lyrics like those of Dylan, while few could recite poetry [particularly modern vers libre poems.] So, Ginsberg went through a period of musically recording Blake’s poems (many of which are memorable / recitable,) as well as writing more lyrical poetry himself. The footnotes were also useful, pointing out where final versions of poems were published and clueing readers into the people, places, and events referred to in Ginsberg’s entries. (Many of which were unfamiliar to me as no more than words.)
If you are poet or a fan of either Ginsberg or the Beats, generally, I’d highly recommend this book.
October 5, 2020
I have long been a fan of Ginsberg and envy his openness in laying bare his life before us, as he neither shies from sharing his most intimate details nor fails to present them with tenderness and poetry. Any fan of the beat poets should get this book for their collection, it is one you will come back to time and time again.
January 19, 2022
Lightning's blue glare fills Oklahoma plains,
the train rolls east
casting yellow shadow on grass
Twenty years ago
approaching Texas
I saw
sheet lightning
cover Heaven's corners
Feed Storage Elevators in gray rain mist,
checkerboard light over sky-roof
same electric lightning South
follows this train
Apocalypse prophesied -
the Fall of America
signaled from Heaven -
- Iron Horse
The Fall of America is a panorama of the culture/counterculture of the United States in the 1960s. Ginsberg's net is all-encompassing, capturing everything with the Kennedy Assassination (in "Bayonne Turnpike to Tuscarora") to the Vietnam War (in... too many to list), everyone from Che Guevara (in "Elegy Che Guevara") to Timothy Leary (in "Crossing Nation")...
[...]
Mary Garden dead in Aberdeen,
Jack Ruby dead in Dallas -
Sweet green incense in car cabin.
(Dakini sleeping head bowed, hair braided
over her Rudraksha beads
driving through Pennsylvania.
Julius, bearded, hasn't eaten all day
sitting forward, pursing his lips, calm.)
Sleep, sweet Ruby, sleep in America, Sleep
in Texas, sleep Jack from Chicago,
Friend of the Mafia, friend of the cops
friend of the dancing girls -
Under the viaduct near the book depot
Under the hospital Attacked by Motorcades
Under Nightclubs under all the
groaning bodies of Dallas,
under their angry mouths
Sleep Jack Ruby, rest at last,
bouquet'd with cancer
Ruby, Oswald, Kennedy gone
New Years' 1967 come,
Reynolds Metals up a Half
Mary Garden, 92, sleeping tonite in Aberdeen.
[...]
- Bayonne Turnpike to Tuscarora (pg. 58)
European Trib. boy's face photo'd eyes opened,
young feminine beardless radiant kid
lain back smiling looking upward
Calm as if ladies' lips were kissing invisible parts of the body
Aged reposeful angelic boy corpse,
perceptive Argentine Doctor, petulant Cuba Major
pipe mouth'd & faithfully keeping Diary
in mosquiots Amazonas
Sleep on a hill, dull Havana Throne renounced
More sexy your neck than sad aging necks of Johnson
DeGaulle, Kosygin,
or the bullet that pierced the neck of John Kennedy
Eyes more intelligent glanced up to death newspapers
than worried living Congress Cameras passing
dot screens into T.V. shade, glass-eyed
MacNamara, Dulles in old life . . .
[...]
- Elegy Che Guevara (pg. 70)
Under silver wing
San Fransisco's towers spouting
thru thin gas clouds,
Tamalpais black-breasted above Pacific azure
Berkley hills pine-covered below -
Dr. Leary in his brown house scribing Independence Declaration
typewriter at window
silver panorama in natural eyeball -
[...]
- Crossing Nation (pg. 90)
There's a strong emphasis on music. Ginsberg must have recognized the growing influence of music on the counterculture of the 1960s. Not to mention the . Indeed, many consider the music of the 1960s to be among the best produced in the twentieth century. The 1960s gave us The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, The Beach Boys, Bob Dylan, Simon & Garfunkel... All of whom are present in Ginsberg's poems...
[...]
At Mesa, on the car radio passing a new corn silo, Walking Boogie teenager's tender throats, "I wish they all could be California girls" - as black highway curls outward.
On plains toward Pasco, Oregon hills at horizon, Bob Dylan's voice
on airways, mass machine-made folksong of one soul - Please crawl out your window
[...]
- Beginning of a Poem of These States (pg. 1)
[...]
To East St. Louis on the broad road
Highway 70 crammed with trucks
Last night almost broke my heart dancing to
Can't Get No Satisfaction
lotsa beer & slept naked in the guest room -
[...]
Michele, John Lennon & Paul McCartney
wooing the decade
gaps from the 30s returned
It's the only words I know that
You'll understand . . .
[...]
- Returning North of Vortex (pg. 28-30)
[...]
14 billion 200 million a year to the Debt Money System,
Rolling back darkness in Nebraska -
Shanghai water power cut off by Mao's enemies
I am a Rock, I am an Island radio souls cry
passing north of Lincoln's tiny bright downtown horizon;
Square banks huddled under Capitol turret blinking red,
electric tower steam-drifts
ribboned across building tops
under city's ruby night-glow -
[...]
- Returning North of Vortex (pg. 66)
[...]
May Day parade canceled for Prague
says Police Radio
the old King of May faraway -
SDS chanting thru consciousness megaphones
in every university.
By now, Beatles & Beach Boys have
entered the Sublime
thru Acid The Crist of Kali Yuga, thru
Transcendental Meditation
[...]
- Northwest Passage (pg. 117)
The Fall of America contains Ginsberg's tribute to Neal Cassady, a significant figure among the Beat writers - although not strictly a writer, he inspired Ginsberg and Kerouac. (Burroughs didn't much care for him.) In fact, an entire section of The Fall of America, entitled "Elegies for Neal Cassady 1968" (1/5 of the collection), is dedicated to Cassady. His died on 4 February 1968, and because of the circumstances of his death, Ginsberg wouldn't find out about his friend's death until 10 February, the date of Ginsberg's first "Elegy for Neal Cassady", a date so important to Ginsberg that he included the hour of the poem's composition...
[...]
Some gathering Bust, Eugene Oregon or Hollywood Impends
I had premonition.
"No" I said - "been away all week,"
"you havent heard the News from the West,
Neal Cassady is dead - "
Peter's dove-void'd Oh! on the other line, listening.
[...]
- Elegy for Neal Cassady February 10, 1968, 5-5:30 A.M. (pg. 76)
[...]
It's a gold crisis! not enuf orgasms to go round
"I take care of other people's business" said th' old man sleeping next seat,
Wallets & pens in his inside pocket green tie black suit boots,
"Ever since the world began Gold is the measure of Solidarity."
Golden light over Iowa, silver cloud floor, sky roof blue deep
rayed by Western Sun set brightness from the centre of the Solar System.
Neal born in Salt Lake. Died in San Miguel, met in Denver loved in Denver -
"Down in Denver / down in Denver / all I did was die."
J. Kerouac, '48
[...]
- Chicago to Salt Lake by Air (pg. 80-81)
Delicate eyes that blinked blue Rockies all ash
nipples, Ribs I touched w/ my thumb are ash
mouth my tongue touched once or twice all ash
bony cheeks soft on my belly are cinders, ash
earlobes & eyelids, youthful cock tip, curly pubis
breast warmth, man palm, high school thigh,
baseball biceps arm, asshole anneal'd to silken skin
all ashes, all ashes again.
- On Neal's Ashes (pg. 99)
Likewise, The Fall of America contains Ginsberg's tribute to Jack Kerouac, who died shorty after Cassady on 21 October 1969. If Ginsberg's tribute to Kerouac is less substantial than his tribute to Cassady, it is owing to the falling out between Ginsberg and Kerouac that occurred some years earlier, around the time Kerouac remarried and began drinking himself to death...
[...]
Flying to Maine in a trail of black smoke
Kerouac’s obituary conserves Time’s
Front Paragraphs —
Empire State in Heaven Sun Set Red,
White mist in old October
over the billion trees of Bronx —
There’s too much to see —
Jack saw sun set red over Hudson horizon
Two three decades back
thirtynine fourtynine fiftynine
sixtynine
John Holmes pursed his lips,
wept tears.
Smoke plumed up from Oceanside chimneys
plane roars toward Montauk
stretched in red sunset —
Northport, in the trees, Jack drank
rot gut & made haikus of birds
tweetling on his porch rail at dawn —
Fell down and saw Death’s golden lite
in Florida garden a decade ago.
Now taken utterly, soul upward,
& body down in wood coffin
& concrete slab-box.
I threw a kissed handful of damp earth
down on the stone lid
& sighed
looking in Creeley’s one eye,
Peter sweet holding a flower
Gregory toothless bending his
knuckle to Cinema machine —
and that’s the end of the drabble tongued
Poet who sounded his Knock-up
throughout the Northwest Passage.
Blue dusk over Saybrook, Holmes
sits down to dine Victorian —
& Time has a ten-page spread on
Homosexual Fairies!
Well, while I’m here I’ll
do the work —
and what’s the Work?
To ease the pain of the living.
Everything else, drunken
dumbshow.
- Memory Gardens (pg. 134-135)
The Fall of America may be Ginsberg's most sexually explicit collection. Ginsberg may have provoked an obscenity trial in 1957 for a few harmless lines in "Howl", but he wrote full poems dedicated to sexual gratification in The Fall of America that earned him the National Book Award for Poetry in 1973...
Please master can I touch your cheek
please master can I kneel at your feet
please master can I loosen your blue pants
please master can I gaze at your golden haired belly
please master can I gently take down your shorts
please master can I have your thighs bare to my eyes
please master can I take off your clothes below your chair
please master can I kiss your ankles and soul
please master can I touch lips to your muscle hairless thigh
please master can I lay my ear pressed to your stomach
please master can I wrap my arms around your white ass
please master can I lick your groin curled with soft blond fur
please master can I touch my tongue to your rosy asshole
please master may I pass my face to your balls,
please master, please look into my eyes,
please master order me down on the floor,
please master tell me to lick your thick shaft
please master put your rough hands on my bald hairy skull
please master press my mouth to your prick-heart
please master press my face into your belly, pull me slowly strong thumbed
till your dumb hardness fills my throat to the base
till I swallow and taste your delicate flesh-hot prick barrel veined Please
Master push my shoulders away and stare into my eye, & make me bend over the table
[...]
- Please Master (pg. 84)
Unfortunately, my edition of The Fall of America is missing two poems that belong in the sequence. A Bibliographical Note states the following...
"Wichita Vortex Sutra" (in Planet News, City Lights Books, 1968) fits in sequence following "Hiway Poesy LA-Albuquerque-Texas-Wichita" in this book.
Iron Horse (Coach House Press, Toronto, 1973) fits in sequence at the beginning of the section "Zigzag Back Thru These States 1966-1967."
Fortunately I was able to find both poems in Ginsberg's Collected Poems 1947 - 1997...
I'm an old man now, and a lonesome man in Kansas
but not afraid
to speak my lonesomeness in a car,
because not only my lonesomeness
it's Ours, all over America,
O tender fellows--
& spoken lonesomeness is Prophecy
in the moon 100 years ago or in
the middle of Kansas now.
It's not the vast plains mute our mouths
that fill at midnite with ecstatic language
when our trembling bodies hold each other
breast to breast on a matress--
Not the empty sky that hides
the feeling from our faces
nor our skirts and trousers that conceal
the bodylove emanating in a glow of beloved skin,
white smooth abdomen down to the hair
between our legs,
It's not a God that bore us that forbid
our Being, like a sunny rose
all red with naked joy
between our eyes & bellies, yes
All we do is for this frightened thing
we call Love, want and lack--
fear that we aren't the one whose body could be
beloved of all the brides of Kansas City,
kissed all over by every boy of Wichita--
O but how many in their solitude weep aloud like me--
On the bridge over the Republican River
almost in tears to know
how to speak the right language--
on the frosty broad road
uphill between highway embankments
I search for the language
that is also yours--
almost all our language has been taxed by war.
- Wichita Vortex Sutra, II (Collected Poems 1947 - 1997, pg. 413-414)
This is the creature I am!
Sittin in little roomette Santa Fe train
naked abed, bright afternoon sun light
leaking below closed window-blind
White hair at chest, ridge
where curls old Jewish lock
Belly bulged outward, breathing as a baby
old appendix scar
creased where the belt went
detumescent cannon on two balls soft pillowed
Soft stirring shoots thru breast to belly -
What romance planned by the body unconscious?
What can I shove up my ass?
Masturbation in America!
little spasm delight, prick head
getting bigger
thumb and index finger slowly stroking
along cock sides, askew
cupp'd in hand
Serpent-reptile prick head
moving in and out its meat-nest -
Turn and watch the landscape,
wave my baton
at the passing truck driver?
Lie back on bunk and lift the shade a bit
enjoy sun on my flagpole?
Ah, rest, relax, no fear
look at the sphincter-spasm itself
in a mirror
of sound -
Awk - if you jerk - oh it feels so good
Oh if only somebody'd come in &
shove som'in up that ass a mine -
Oh those two soldiers talking about Cambodia!
I wantem to come in and lay my head down
and shove it in and make me
Come like I'm coming now,
Come like I'm coming now,
Come like I'm coming now -
Ahh - white drops fall,
millions of children -
Santa Fe what can they do to prevent
passengers from
soiling their
small blankets with love?
Wipe up cream - what if
The conductor knocked
Go away, I'm -
I have to compose a poem
I have to write a financial report
I have to meditate myself
I have to
put on my pants -
just lie back look at the landscape
see a tree
& cross Ameriky -
Compromised!
among green Spinach fields!
Felt good for a minute, flash came thru body
And the Sphincter-spasm spoke
backward to the soldiers in the observation car
I'd hated their Cambodian gossip!
but longed for in moment truth
to punish my 40 years' lies -
Oh what a wretch I am! What
monster naked in this metal box -
Hard Crane, under
Laughing Gas in the Dentist's Chair 1922 saw
Seventh Heaven
said Nebraska scholar.
On my train O Cr
February 8, 2024
I love the immediate vivid energy, most of these make no sense to me. I kind of like the feeling though, because I can tell the references and the lines would make sense to someone living in the time this was written. Everything written down about the radio, the details and politics of different places, so clouded in personal experience and inside reference I couldn’t dechiper it. But I can tell these were more about the process I guess, the act of observing, twisting, encrypting and then writing, fluid and unending. Snapshots of politics and attitudes and places.
Elegy for Neal Cassady though is one of the more beautiful things I’ve read. It’s such a change of pace and a full stop cosmic encounter with loss. Just go read it.
Elegy for Neal Cassady though is one of the more beautiful things I’ve read. It’s such a change of pace and a full stop cosmic encounter with loss. Just go read it.
June 18, 2017
A singer of songs...
February 23, 2018
Last few sections less compelling tho.
October 7, 2020
The Fall of America Journals, 1965–1971 by Allen Ginsberg is a publication of the University of Minnesota Press. Ginsberg was an American poet and writer. As a student at Columbia University in the 1940s, he began friendships with William S. Burroughs and Jack Kerouac, forming the core of the Beat Generation. He vigorously opposed militarism, economic materialism, and sexual repression, and he embodied various aspects of this counterculture with his views on drugs, hostility to bureaucracy, and openness to Eastern religions.
The journals are edited, transcribed, and annotated by Michael Schumacher. Schumacher has written extensively about Allen Ginsberg and the Beat Generation. His articles, reviews, and essays have appeared in newspapers and magazines across the country. He is editor of Family Business, a collection of letters between Allen and Louis Ginsberg, and The Essential Ginsberg, a volume of the best of Ginsberg’s poems, essays, songs, letters, journal entries, interviews, and photographs.
Ginsberg’s journals have been published in the past, most notably his journals from Cuba and Czechoslavakia. Those journals were mainly travelogues recording his experiences. The Fall of America Journals are very different. These were meant to be a recording of art as it happened. With a tape recorder from Bob Dylan and a van from a grant, Ginsberg wanted to create his own version of “On The Road” in audio format. The beginning of the journal is mostly descriptive of the Pacific Northwest but peppered with dreams, worry over Vietnam, interactions with the people he is with. It reads almost the same as the Eastern European Journals. However, about a quarter of the way through the book Ginsberg breaks out in poetry. It is rough and unhewn, but with notes from Schumacher, the reader can see the development of the poems that would become The Fall of America. The text also contains photographs of the journeys and something that surprised me. Although I am by no means a Ginsberg expert, I have read some of his and his colleagues’ poetry. One of the photographs is the notes for a poem about my home town. A poem I missed in all my other reading.
The reading goes on sometimes fragmented and other times seeming almost complete. It is interesting to follow along with Schumacher’s notes as to what is being recorded and where it falls into The Fall of America. Having both books open and available is rewarding — the inspiration and the final product. Although the journals can be read straight through, it is not an easy task. Schumacher’s notations in the text and introductions provide the reader with enough background and context to follow along. The notations are helpful but sometimes seem to be a bit much. For example, Joan Baez is cited as a “popular folksinger.” All in all, this is an excellent companion to The Fall of America and a personal look at Ginsberg’s thoughts on war, drugs, sex, and America.
September 27, 2013
I'm sorry, but I don't understand why anyone would be fascinated with a poetry book such as this one...There were maybe 5 decent poems to be found here...The rest read like meandering gibberish with a little philosophy thrown in the middle of them...which doesn't equal good poetry in my book...I love many of the Beat poets and poets related to the Beat generation, but I don't think I will ever be a big fan or even a normal fan of Ginsberg...Ferlinghetti is one of my favorite poets ever...Corso was great...Kaufman wrote some really cool stuff...This collection and many other collections by Ginsberg just don't appeal to me at all...I don't see what is so special about any of these poems.
April 16, 2022
Fascinating for Ginsberg afficinados. If that's not you, read the Fall of America--the collection he was working on over the span covered by these dream reports, rough drafts, musings on the state of the chaos as Vietnam dragged ever onward. The main surprise for me was a long poem--Denver to Montana--Ginsberg wrote as the final piece in Fall, which didn't make it to completion before the book went to press.
June 7, 2015
Sad and beautiful series of road poems, changes in america, loss of friends, well worth a read.
---he threw up his hands
& wrote the Universe dont exist
& died to prove it.---
---Well, while I am here I'll do the work -
and what's the Work?
To ease the pain of living.
Everything else, drunken
dumbshow.---
---he threw up his hands
& wrote the Universe dont exist
& died to prove it.---
---Well, while I am here I'll do the work -
and what's the Work?
To ease the pain of living.
Everything else, drunken
dumbshow.---
August 7, 2011
Perfect poetry for buses & waiting rooms.
April 13, 2015
Some of the best anti war poems ever written.
June 12, 2020
How I’d love to get inside this man’s complicated, dead brain and dissect it.
October 8, 2020
This is the next book I buy. I borrowed a copy from a friend at work and was a bit put off by the rambling and lack of structure. I listened to Ginsberg read some of his poetry and then everything made sense.
I have gotten much better at "getting" best poetry since I first read this book. 2016 is the 60th anniversary of the publishing of The Howl and Other Poems. I imagine it will be a fairly big deal as I already have two ARCs for Ginsberg books to be published in 2016.
Ginsberg manages to combine bits of everything in his work -- beat friends, Judaism, antiestablishment, homosexuality, and vulgarity. A shock for the times, but mild by today's standards.
Read as a preview for next year's Ginsberg books
I have gotten much better at "getting" best poetry since I first read this book. 2016 is the 60th anniversary of the publishing of The Howl and Other Poems. I imagine it will be a fairly big deal as I already have two ARCs for Ginsberg books to be published in 2016.
Ginsberg manages to combine bits of everything in his work -- beat friends, Judaism, antiestablishment, homosexuality, and vulgarity. A shock for the times, but mild by today's standards.
Read as a preview for next year's Ginsberg books
December 25, 2018
Un poemario escrito en primera persona por el autor quién por seis años se dedicó a retratar la situación social de Estados Unidos mientras viajaba en la autopista, en una época de recesión económica y crisis militar, la guerra de Vietnam. La verdad que es muy desolador y emotivo, trata de mostrar esa cara que nadie quiere ver pero está presente en un país de primer mundo, hasta el punto que te desilusionas del "sueño Americano". Un libro para personas de criterio formado con críticas a la sociedad, política, polución, corrupción, el gobierno y las guerras.
August 7, 2019
I think out of all of Ginsberg's poetry books that I have read, this one seems to be the most cohesively behind a singular theme. The rest are more varied in theme or tone but this one Ginsberg had a singular theme during these years, evidently. Like a road trip across America, he describes what he sees and writes what's on his mind. The politics of the time are prevalent, as are the deaths of Neal Cassady and Jack Kerouac. Some of the work is more accessible than others, however. It's a strong effort and an interesting read.
August 19, 2024
Not as capturing as I'd hoped it would be, but there were a couple interesting parts
There was a lot more about Vietnam and anti-war sentiment than I expected
I liked the style of linking poetic descriptions of little snippets of things Ginsburg saw in his travels with snippets of the news. It feels like looking through a box of Polaroids and coming out with a better understanding of what life was like back then. Very down to earth in a way
If you're a fan of the beatniks you might appreciate the poems mourning Cassady and Kerouac
There was a lot more about Vietnam and anti-war sentiment than I expected
I liked the style of linking poetic descriptions of little snippets of things Ginsburg saw in his travels with snippets of the news. It feels like looking through a box of Polaroids and coming out with a better understanding of what life was like back then. Very down to earth in a way
If you're a fan of the beatniks you might appreciate the poems mourning Cassady and Kerouac
August 18, 2021
The Fall Of America
Poems of These States 1965 - 1971
Allen Ginsberg
Parts of the collected works of Allen Ginsberg
Maybe the biggest Poetry book in the collected work so far;
It got some arabic/islamic verses but not in the good poems;
I liked maybe one or two poems in the whole books;
The previous works are much better;
Poems of These States 1965 - 1971
Allen Ginsberg
Parts of the collected works of Allen Ginsberg
Maybe the biggest Poetry book in the collected work so far;
It got some arabic/islamic verses but not in the good poems;
I liked maybe one or two poems in the whole books;
The previous works are much better;
November 5, 2021
A very different style of poetry from Ginsberg's other words (with the exception of planet news) which was written in the same style. I enjoyed this book, but not nearly as much as some of his earlier work. Potentially I would say that this book should be read and appreciated by fans of Alan Ginsberg's other works, but can largely be ignored by anyone else.
December 22, 2021
Where it works, it works, where it doesn't it doesn't.
Good to see some Colorado-themed poems!
Good to see some Colorado-themed poems!
June 29, 2023
i was right there with him
March 13, 2024
los poemas a la muerte de Neal Cassady y Kerouac, uff
December 26, 2024
this man wrote all of his sexual desires into a poem???
September 3, 2022
Some poems two star, some four
The length of the book means alot of mediocre poems are mixed with alot of good poems diluting the effect of the book as a whole
Elegies for Neal Cassidy is by far the best set within this book
The length of the book means alot of mediocre poems are mixed with alot of good poems diluting the effect of the book as a whole
Elegies for Neal Cassidy is by far the best set within this book
March 20, 2016
Entiendo la propuesta y la crítica imperiosa a la América del momento y su quimera del sueño americano, entiendo la rabia y el vacío de Ginsberg e incluso entiendo su frustración, su vértigo y su constante sensación de desesperanza ante la muerte de Cassady. Entiendo muy bien qué es lo que Ginsberg quiere decirme con La caída de América, y la propuesta es brillante, pero no entiendo el cómo.
La constante enumeración de imágenes, en muchos casos inconexa, da la impresión de ser un mero cuaderno de notas donde Ginsberg ha vertido infinitud de pensamientos e ideas para posteriores poemas donde plasmarlas. Meterme en la mente de Ginsberg ha sido confuso y arduo, y siempre desde un alejamiento enorme, sin llegar en ningún momento a adentrarme del todo porque, como digo, entiendo muy bien cuál es su propuesta y lo que me quiere comunicar, pero no el modo en que lo hace.
No obstante, esta inconexión constante y la falta de lógica en muchas ocasiones, me lleva a pensar que Ginsberg pretende mostrar así esa pesadilla americana, esa destrucción del sueño americano que se ha ido tejiendo a lo largo del siglo XX para desmantelar la realidad que se vive. Y en ese aspecto sí, reconozco que el mensaje impacta con brutalidad en el lector, y es algo que debe destacarse.
Después de leer Aullido y teniendo a Ginsberg como uno de mis muchos referentes norteamericanos del siglo XX, me duele decir que no he disfrutado de estos poemas como me habría gustado, a pesar de que el mensaje es contundente, y algunas imágenes son, en sí mismas y aisladas del contexto general, devastadoras, impactantes y brillantes. Si bien he seguido el viaje de Ginsberg de un modo muy claro (a este respecto he de decir que me ayuda mucho haber visto Amores asesinos [Kill your darlings], estrenada en 2013 y protagonizada por Daniel Radcliffe y Lucien Carr [que me pareció muy buena], y haber leído anteriormente sobre su generación), reitero que su mensaje no llega a calar en mí del modo en que Aullido lo hizo en su momento.
La constante enumeración de imágenes, en muchos casos inconexa, da la impresión de ser un mero cuaderno de notas donde Ginsberg ha vertido infinitud de pensamientos e ideas para posteriores poemas donde plasmarlas. Meterme en la mente de Ginsberg ha sido confuso y arduo, y siempre desde un alejamiento enorme, sin llegar en ningún momento a adentrarme del todo porque, como digo, entiendo muy bien cuál es su propuesta y lo que me quiere comunicar, pero no el modo en que lo hace.
No obstante, esta inconexión constante y la falta de lógica en muchas ocasiones, me lleva a pensar que Ginsberg pretende mostrar así esa pesadilla americana, esa destrucción del sueño americano que se ha ido tejiendo a lo largo del siglo XX para desmantelar la realidad que se vive. Y en ese aspecto sí, reconozco que el mensaje impacta con brutalidad en el lector, y es algo que debe destacarse.
Después de leer Aullido y teniendo a Ginsberg como uno de mis muchos referentes norteamericanos del siglo XX, me duele decir que no he disfrutado de estos poemas como me habría gustado, a pesar de que el mensaje es contundente, y algunas imágenes son, en sí mismas y aisladas del contexto general, devastadoras, impactantes y brillantes. Si bien he seguido el viaje de Ginsberg de un modo muy claro (a este respecto he de decir que me ayuda mucho haber visto Amores asesinos [Kill your darlings], estrenada en 2013 y protagonizada por Daniel Radcliffe y Lucien Carr [que me pareció muy buena], y haber leído anteriormente sobre su generación), reitero que su mensaje no llega a calar en mí del modo en que Aullido lo hizo en su momento.
July 25, 2014
The Fall of America is one of my favourite collections of Ginsberg’s work, despite the fact that it doesn’t contain his most famous or most celebrated poetry. It is, however, a longer collection than some of his others, spanning the years 1965 – 1971 and charting a period in history that I can’t help but be fascinated by.
Whether you’re reading September On Jessore Road, with its Dylan-esque refrain and anti-establishment vibes, or the heartwarming series of elegies for Neal Cassady, you’ll feel the raw power of Ginsberg’s words as they jump off the page and blaze a path across your mind, and you’re unlikely to forget the feelings that were roused even if you do forget the meaning.
The Neal Cassady poems are of historical importance themselves – Cassady, a fellow writer who inspired the character of Dean Moriarty in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, was the first of the great beat figures to die, coming to an early end after walking home alone beside a railroad track.
Whether you’re reading September On Jessore Road, with its Dylan-esque refrain and anti-establishment vibes, or the heartwarming series of elegies for Neal Cassady, you’ll feel the raw power of Ginsberg’s words as they jump off the page and blaze a path across your mind, and you’re unlikely to forget the feelings that were roused even if you do forget the meaning.
The Neal Cassady poems are of historical importance themselves – Cassady, a fellow writer who inspired the character of Dean Moriarty in Jack Kerouac’s On the Road, was the first of the great beat figures to die, coming to an early end after walking home alone beside a railroad track.
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