138 pages of Ginsberg the traveler, Ginsberg the political malcontent, Ginsberg the drug-induced rambler. The two longest pieces are "Television Was A Baby Crawling Toward That Deathchamber" (18 pages) and "Wichita Vortex Sutra" (23 pages). 39 other poems.
There is much here that left me unimpressed. But there are gems as well. "After Yeats", "Café In Warsaw", "First Party At Ken Kesey's With Hell's Angels", and to a lesser extent, "Kral Majales" are all notable. Each of these poems represents AG at his more accessible, more focused. In the first and the third, he boils it down to just a few efficient lines.
I'll leave you with a few lines:Art is just a shadow, like cows or tea
- "Galilee Shore"Today is slowly ending - I will step back into it and disappear.
- "Today"It all came true in the sunset on a deserted street
- "The Moments Return"