Kenneth Rexroth Poems
- Gic To Har It is late at night, cold and damp The air is ...
- Floating Our canoe idles in the idling current Of the tree ...
- Discrimination I don’t mind the human race. I’ve got pretty...
- Thou Shalt Not Kill I They are murdering all the young men....
- Confusion I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn, The ...
- The Bad Old Days The summer of nineteen eighteen I read The...
- Between Two Wars Remember that breakfast one November — Cold...
an American poet, translator and critical essayist. He is regarded as a central figure in the San Francisco Renaissance, and paved the groundwork for the movement. Although he did not consider himself to be a Beat poet, and disliked the association, he was one of the major influences on the Beat generation, and was once dubbed "Father of the Beats" by Time. He was among the first poets in the United States to explore traditional Japanese poetic forms such as haiku.
Rexroth had two daughters, Mary (who later changed her name to Mariana) and Katharine, by his third wife, Marthe Larsen.
Rexroth was born Kenneth Charles Marion Rexroth in ... more »
Click here to add this poet to your My Favorite Poets.
Quotationsmore quotations »
''When the newspapers have got nothing else to talk about, they cut loose on the young. The young are always news. If they are up to something, that's news. If they aren't, that's news too.''Kenneth Rexroth (1905-1982), U.S. poet, critic, translator. repr. In The Rexroth Reader, ed. Eric Mottram (1972). "The Students Take Over," Assays (19...
Comments about Kenneth Rexroth
Gic To Har
It is late at night, cold and damp
The air is filled with tobacco smoke.
My brain is worried and tired.
I pick up the encyclopedia,
The volume GIC to HAR,
It seems I have read everything in it,
So many other nights like this.
I sit staring empty-headed at the article Grosbeak,
Listening to the long rattle and pound
Of freight cars and switch engines in the distance.
Suddenly I remember
Coming home from swimming
In Ten Mile Creek,
Over the long moraine in the early summer evening,
My hair wet, smelling of waterweeds and mud.
I remember a sycamore in ...