Skip to main content

KR from IN

Poets from Indiana, Kenneth Rexroth


Yes, Mr. anti-establishment himself, Kenneth Rexroth, started his life in South Bend, Indiana, and was there until 14 when he headed off to Chicago and then bounced around for years until he ended up in San Francisco.  Yes, that same Rexroth who emceed the reading off Howl, who corresponded with Pound, Whalen, Levertov, Oppen, Synder, and others. That same Rexroth who championed the art of translation and was famously antiwar and antigovernment. Indiana. 

One of my favorite poems of his is "The Bad Old Days." You can find the entire poem on the Poetry Foundation page, but here is a taste.

The summer of nineteen eighteen   
I read The Jungle and The
Research Magnificent. That fall   
My father died and my aunt   
Took me to Chicago to live.   
The first thing I did was to take   
A streetcar to the stockyards.   
In the winter afternoon,   
Gritty and fetid, I walked
Through the filthy snow, through the   
Squalid streets, looking shyly   
Into the people’s faces,

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   
I was giddy and sick, and out   
Of my misery I felt rising   
A terrible anger and out
Of the anger, an absolute vow.   
Today the evil is clean
And prosperous, but it is   
Everywhere, you don’t have to   
Take a streetcar to find it,
And it is the same evil.
And the misery, and the
Anger, and the vow are the same.

Yes, Kenneth Rexroth went straight from Indiana into a world of poetry. 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

JM in IN

Poets from Indiana, John Matthias Wait, that's John Matthias. I know, you're probably like, why wasn't he the first poet on the list for Indiana? After all, he studied under John Berryman and Yvor Winters. He rubbed elbow patches with Robert Hass and Robert Pinsky. He was at Notre Dame when the MFA started, edited The Notre Dame   Review , and joked around with other amazing writers like Steve Tomasula and Joyelle McSweeney (I suppose, though I haven't heard any stories). And, finally, he's the poet that Robert Archambeau is always talking about, so you know his work is amazing .  He grew up in Ohio and went to The Ohio State U and Stanford, but he's been in South Bend long enough to be claimed as someone with "deep Indiana roots." I'm sure that some of his many books were written along the banks of the St. Joseph River.  One of my favorites is "After Quevedo." Quevedo himself writes insightfully about death, and Matthias' poem picks ...

RUJ in IN

 Poets from Indiana, Robert Underwood Johnson I know, you're like, wait, that guy looks old. Yep, Robert Underwood Johnson died in 1937. He lived through the Civil War, served as an ambassador to Italy, went camping with John Muir (yes, that one), argued for copyright laws, argued for land conservation and women's rights. He hung out with Teddy Roosevelt, Augustus Saint-Gaudens, Ulysses S. Grant, Henry James, and many others. And yes, he grew up in Indiana and graduated from Earlham College in Richmond at the age of 14. Still, even more importantly, he was a poet with many books to his name. I first came across his work in Eletha Mae Taylor's Indiana Poetry  compilation. It contains this poem, "Titian's Two Loves, in the Borghese."               One forgets not the first dead he sorrowed over;                One forgets not the first kiss of the first lover.         ...

ES in IN

Poets from Indiana, Evaleen Stein So, I'm going way back for this one, but Evaleen Stein is one of most Indiana poets featured yet. She lived and died in Lafayette. And what's more, she's pretty amazing. She's probably best known for writing novels for children, but she wrote hundreds of poems. Many of them are aimed at children, but many are observations of local nature. In addition, she translated poems from Italian and Japanese, no small feat. Just consider this excerpt from "Showery Time" (you can find the whole poem here ): In countless fluted creases The little elm-leaves show, While white as carded fleeces The dogwood blossoms blow. A rosy robe is wrapping The early red-bud trees; But still the haws are napping, Nor heed the honey-bees. And still in lazy sleeping The apple-buds are bound, But tulip-tips are peeping From out the garden ground.  This is a peaceful little poem with natural images that still scream Indiana, and it's really ju...