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 »
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Kenneth Rexroth Poems
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,
Our canoe idles in the idling current Of the tree and vine and rush enclosed Backwater of a torpid midwestern stream; Revolves slowly, and lodges in the glutted
Between Two Wars
Remember that breakfast one November — Cold black grapes smelling faintly Of the cork they were packed in, Hard rolls with hot, white flesh,
The Bad Old Days
The summer of nineteen eighteen I read The Jungle and The Research Magnificent. That fall
I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn, The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open. The soft breeze from the lake
I don’t mind the human race. I’ve got pretty used to them In these past twenty-five years. I don’t mind if they sit next
Thou Shalt Not Kill
I They are murdering all the young men. For half a century now, every day,
There are sparkles of rain on the bright Hair over your forehead; Your eyes are wet and your lips Wet and cold, your cheek rigid with cold.
Somebody has given my Baby daughter a box of Old poker chips to play with. Today she hands me one while
Falling Leaves and Early Snow
In the years to come they will say, “They fell like the leaves In the autumn of nineteen thirty-nine.” November has come to the forest,
Lyell’s Hypothesis Again
The mountain road ends here, Broken away in the chasm where The bridge washed out years ago. The first scarlet larkspur glitters
It is the dark of the moon. Late at night, the end of summer, The autumn constellations Glow in the arid heaven.
Under the orchards, under The tree strung vines, little blue Figures are making hay, high On the steep hillsides above
Under your illkempt yellow roses, Delia, today you are younger Than your son. Two and a half decades – The family monument sagged askew,
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
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
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 ...