Allen Ginsberg became topic on Poetics list recently. snide remarks were taken as gay bashing. I kinda think the perp was unfairly accused, for it seemed to me he was merely dumping on Ginsberg, but that's open to interpretation. AG's defenders were concerned about defamation of character, which is silly as I would declare that AG has no character left at this time. he dead. in life he surely accepted the outrage that surrounded him often. okay, blah blah, I don't mean to act that stuff out further, the problem of Poetics is that it is just act out. the dust up sent me to AG's collected, wherein I read some decent poems. his collected has sat on a shelf often in view and I would look and think of all the horrible poems in it. I have always respected Howl and Kaddish and Sunflower Sutra, but when AG does his jangly versification he sounds lame. the poem I read was a long journal sort of poem, the title escapes me. Stephen Vincent on Poetics remarked that the journal for some poets is the best form, referring to Whalen and I think also AG. he is right. Indian Journals by Ginsberg is quite nice, comfortable for him. AG is a derivationist. he wants to channel the poets he likes, but he doesn't have that skill. when he calls on Blake or Whitman, he sounds merely hopeful. he's too self conscious when he writes like that. in journals his step is confident and light. he was a darn good reader, I'll allow. he was a showman. I used to have his recording of Blake's songs. he's a little too confident declaring that he channels Blake. the moist (er, sic) thrilling moment on the lp was in Grey Monk. the singing fades out, leaving just Elvin Jones drumming. that drumming is so eloquent. Ginsberg's voice is at best an acquired taste, so when that stops, this beautiful thrash by Jones just speaks.