Walt Whitman

I Sing the Body Electric —1— I sing the body electric, The armies of those I love engirth me and I engirth them, They will not let me off till I go with them, respond to them, And discorrupt them, and charge ...

Jenny Wade

Let us praise, brothers, freedom’s twilight, The great diminishing year! A heavy forest of nets is lowered Into the turbulent waters of night. You are ascending in desolate years, Oh sun, judge, people. Let us prai...

William Carlos Williams

"The Red Wheelbarrow," a classic poem by the great William Carlos Williams. You don't need to say much to say a lot.

Gary Snyder

He had driven half the night From far down San Joaquin Through Mariposa, up the Dangerous Mountain roads, And pulled in at eight a.m. With his big truckload of hay behind the barn. With winch and ropes and hooks We s...

Lawrence Ferlinghetti

The World Is A Beautiful Place - Lawrence Ferlinghetti The world is a beautiful place to be born into if you don't mind happiness not always being so very much fun if you don't mind a touch of hell now and then jus...

Jack Kerouac

October in the Railroad Earth is a long, flowing prose poem recounting Jack Kerouac’s memories of his experiences as a “student brakeman” on the Southern Pacific Railroad in California. In his interview with Paris Revi...

André Breton

The First Surrealist Manifesto So strong is the belief in life, in what is most fragile in life – real life, I mean – that in the end this belief is lost. Man, that inveterate dreamer, daily more discontent with his des...

Neal Cassady

In December 1950, Jack Kerouac received the so-called "Joan Anderson letter" from Neal Cassady. Kerouac later said the letter inspired his new writing style in On The Road. Kerouac thought the letter was lost when somebody d...

Charles Bukowski

starving in philadelphia i had a small room it was evening going into night and i stood at my window on the 3rd floor in the dark and looked down into a kitchen across the way on the 2nd floor and i saw a beautiful blo...

William S. Burroughs

Truman Capote once famously said of the work of Jack Kerouac: "That's not writing, that's typing." A decade or so later, William S. Burroughs returned the favor with this epistolary riposte. July 23, 1970 My Dear Mr. T...