Gregory Nunzio Corso was an American poet, youngest of the inner circle of Beat Generation writers (with Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and William S. Burroughs). He was beloved by the other "Beats".
“… a tough young kid from the Lower East Side who rose like an angel over the roof tops and sang Italian song as sweet as Caruso and Sinatra, but in words… Amazing and beautiful, Gregory Corso, the one and only Gregory, the Herald.” ~Jack Kerouac
"Corso's a poet's Poet, a poet much superior to me. Pure velvet... whose wild fame's extended for decades around the world from France to China, World Poet". ~Allen Ginsberg
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Gregory Corso Poems
Last Night I Drove A Car
Last night I drove a car not knowing how to drive not owning a car
I Am 25
With a love a madness for Shelley Chatterton Rimbaud and the needy-yap of my youth has gone from ear to ear:
They deliver the edicts of God without delay
The Mad Yak
I am watching them churn the last milk they'll ever get from me. They are waiting for me to die; They want to make buttons out of my bones. Where are my sisters and brothers?
To a downfallen rose
When I laid aside the verses of Mimnermus, I lived a life of canned heat and raw hands, alone, not far from my body did I wander, walked with a hope of a sudden dreamy forest of gold.
I Held A Shelley Manuscript
My hands did numb to beauty as they reached into Death and tightened! O sovereign was my touch
Should I get married? Should I be Good? Astound the girl next door with my velvet suit and faustaus hood?
The Whole Mess... Almost
I ran up six flights of stairs to my small furnished room opened the window
What simple profundities What profound simplicities To sit down among the trees...
Writ On The Steps Of Puerto Rican Harlem
There’s a truth limits man A truth prevents his going any farther The world is changing The world knows it’s changing
Uncomprising year—I see no meaning to life. Though this abled self is here nonetheless, either in trade gold or grammaticness,
The American Way
1 I am a great American I am almost nationalistic about it! I love America like a madness!
America Politica Historia, In Spontaneit...
O this political air so heavy with the bells and motors of a slow night, and no place to rest
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
Last Night I Drove A Car
Last night I drove a car
not knowing how to drive
not owning a car
I drove and knocked down
people I loved
...went 120 through one town.
I stopped at Hedgeville
and slept in the back seat
...excited about my new life.