Of poets and prophets: Ah!merica by Allen Ginsberg

The latest offering from isolarii, the unique publishing venture that produces small—think palm-sized—“island books” that feature the work of novelists, scientists, artists, theorists, and philosophers and others. But don’t let the small scale fool you, these micro-masterpieces can pack a punch. The latest, their sixteenth title, is Ah!merica by Beat poet Allen Ginsberg, a meditation on the visionary genius of William Blake, his influence on several contemporary American poets, and his enduring relevance for our times.

The text of Ah!merica is adapted from the legendary, discursive lectures Ginsberg delivered about or inspired by Blake’s life and work at the Jack Kerouac School of Disembodied Poetics at the Naropa Institute, between the time he co-founded it in 1974 until his death in 1997. On the Allen Ginsberg Project website, editor Sebastian Clark explained their approach to working with such an extensive collection of original material:

We began with a detailed line edit of the collected lectures to ensure coherence, focusing on making Ginsberg’s speech accessible without losing its distinction, spontaneity, or sincerity. Once the text was refined at the sentence level, we shifted to collating the lectures and arranging them thematically. The organizing principle became Ginsberg’s sustained engagement with Blake, particularly the concept of “double vision”- the ability to see, simultaneously, the material world and its deeper, spiritual, dimensions.

Organized into sections or chapters, each headed by a number in Ginsberg’s own handwriting, the resulting 170 page volume is illuminated with an ample selection of Blake’s prints and completed with one of four dust jackets. It’s a delightful work to hold and behold.

He begins by describing the youthful epiphany he experienced at the age of  twenty while reading Blake one night (while masturbating of course). This visionary experience, embodied in the New York facades he could see outside his window, completely transformed his attitude towards poetry. In Blake’s prophetic books in particular, Ginsberg recognized a voice that still spoke to the challenges he was observing 150 years down the line: “He was struggling with the same emotions we all face but specifically about the destruction of idealism and radicalism of his time.”

For Ginsberg, Blake is a poet who was ever attentive to the ordinary surface reality of the world, to the details that many tend to overlook, while remaining  aware of the profound spiritual currents coursing beneath it. He brings his more contemporary American poetic heroes—William Carlos Williams, Walt Whitman, and Charles Reznikoff—into his lectures to examine the way the ability to truly to see is reflected in their work. He also recognizes within Blake’s poetry, parallels to his own life-long exploration of Buddhist thought and tradition. Further, Ginsberg delights in the playfulness that can be seen in Blake’s singular style and his artwork:

We get a lot of intelligence and humor out of Blake’s illustrations of his ideas, just a much as we get from his prophetic books. We can decipher his mind, visually. How much delicacy he put into each illustration! Just as in the prosody, his punctuation, and eccentric capitalization, there’s tremendous wit in the paintings.

Because this text is adapted from lectures, there is a passion that comes through clearly in what is essentially an extended exploration of what we can learn from Blake about reading and writing poetry. From appreciating the inherent musicality of the form to the necessity to compose without fear. Ginsberg encourages young poets to be willing to break with or ignore the “rules” of composition and be open to the messiness within. “The problem is staying with what you were really thinking, rather than what you believe you’re supposed to be thinking”—that is, resist the temptation to ignore the very unappetizing images that arise in the writing process, for that is where the most interesting and authentic aspects of yourself tend to lie. This leads, ultimately, to a final discussion of the difference between “good” and “great” poetry. It’s no secret what Blake has left us.

Ah!merica by Allen Ginsberg is published by isolarii, a series by Common Era Inc.

Some ghosts have rougher journeys than others

- Copyright JM Schreiber 2012
– Copyright JM Schreiber 2012

O! WHY was I born with a different face?
Why was I not born like the rest of my race?
When I look, each one starts; when I speak, I offend;
Then I’m silent and passive, and lose every friend.

Then my verse I dishonour, my pictures despised,
My person degrade, and my temper chastise;
And the pen is my terror, the pencil my shame;
All my talents I bury, and dead is my fame.

I am either too low, or too highly priz’d;
When elate I’m envied; when meek I’m despis’d.
-William Blake, from a letter to his patron Thomas Butts, 1803

I first encountered these words in the months following my first manic breakdown in the late 1990s. With a diagnosis at hand I needed to understand its meaning so I read  the standard popular memoirs of the time. But I found myself drawn into the work of William Blake. Although many readers reject the notion that madness may have fueled his tireless creative energies, his hours conversing with angels and his periods of darkness – I found comfort in his artistic conviction even if he was destined to die without ever receiving the recognition of understanding he deserved.

For every person who successfully rises above the challenges of mental illness and negotiates the pitfalls of drugs and alcohol, there are those who spend their lives living rough. And others who lose the battle altogether. But Blake drew inspiration from his angels and demons with his loving wife by his side until the end.

Today is my birthday, and having found myself back trying to figure out what I am supposed to learn from this second mania and unexpected fall from grace, Blake’s lament has a special resonance once again.

But this time I am reflecting on a very different face than that which I confronted 17 years ago. From the time I was very young I could not make sense of the face with which I was born. The eyes that looked out from within that visage threatened to give me away. The body I struggled to feel at home in never felt like mine. The girls I befriended seemed like aliens and, with no other explanation for my discomfort I assumed that I had never learned the tricks, never tried hard enough.

The idea that gender or identity could be misaligned never occurred to me when I was growing up. At least not in the context I needed to hear. And when It did start to seep into my awareness I was already well into marriage and motherhood. It was a complicated comfort to realize that there was an explanation for my feelings. It was even more terrifying to know what to do with this information.

I know well that my mood disorder runs back through my family, that it has a genetic basis somewhere. I have no idea what course it might have followed without this added sense of being out of step with rest of humanity. But my hospital psychiatrists were certain that my apparent gender dysphoria was simply a psychotic symptom that would resolve itself with the right dose of lithium.

They were wrong of course. Now, 17 years later, the average looking middle aged man who confronts me from the mirror is not special, but he is one I feel at home with. For many years I thought that was enough, as if I had found the magic bullet, the key to moving forward on all fronts. My family have been supportive, I recreated my identity and built a new career.

But I still found that the manic-depressive monster has followed me all along. Making sense of recovery this time around, I find myself doubly invisible. Behind a face that accurately reflects my sense of self identity, is a whole life I cannot fully share. Talking about being bipolar has been the easy part.

But moving forward from this birthday, I want to find a way to be whole.