Word: ginsberg
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...said Corso. "Fried shoes. Like it means nothing. It's all a big laughing bowl and we're caught in it. A scary laughing bowl." Added Gregory Corso, with the enigmatic quality of a true Beatnik: "Don't shoot the wart hog." Chimed in Allen Ginsberg: "My mystical shears snip snip snip...
Tears from a Hydrant. This chatter was only a way of passing the time, for the guests had come for something more important than Scotch and Spinoza. They had come to meet 32-year-old Allen Ginsberg of Paterson, N.J., author of a celebrated, chock-full catalogue called Howl (I saw the best minds of my generation destroyed by madness, starving hysterical naked), recognized leader of the pack of oddballs (TIME, June 9) who celebrate booze, dope, sex and despair and who go by the name of Beatniks...
...length Poet Ginsberg arrived, wearing blue jeans and a checked black-and-red lumberjacking shirt with black patches at the elbows. With him were two other shabbily dressed Beatniks. One was Ginsberg's intimate friend, a mental-hospital attendant named Peter Orlovsky, 25, who writes poetry (I talk to the fire hydrant, asking: "Do you have bigger tears than I do?"); the other was Gregory Corso, 28, a shaggy, dark little man who boasts that he has never combed his hair-and never gets an argument. Corso, also a poet, will be remembered for his lines...
...Allen Ginsberg," said Allen Ginsberg, "and I'm crazy like a daisy...
...evening's end Peter Orlovsky was in tears because his chum Ginsberg was getting so much attention. Gently, Ginsberg and Corso took Orlovsky back to their borrowed apartment, put him to sleep-or more properly, down on his pad. Then Ginsberg and a bearded friend hit the streets, walked till 6 a.m., talking about their mothers. It was all fried shoes. Like it means nothing. And this week they will do it all over again, by popular demand, at Columbia University in Manhattan...