City Lights Pocket Series, 1955-2011

City Lights Bookstore, Founded 1953

The first all-paperback bookstore in the US, at first sharing the space with other shops, was opened in 1953 by sociology professor Peter D. Martin, who had relocated from NYC in the 40's.  Ferlinghetti, a French teacher in an adult education program, painter, and art critic, met him one day outside hanging a sign "Pocket Book Shop" and they decided to invest $500 each.  They hired Shig Murao as clerk, who worked for free for the first few weeks.  The bookstore became a popular place with writers and artists.

Martin left in 1955.  Ferlinghetti published his first book of poems, Pictures of the Gone World, in August 1955, and followed this with books by Kenneth Rexroth, Kenneth Patchen, Marie Ponsot, Bob Kaufman, Denise Levertov, Robert Duncan, William Carlos Williams, and Gregory Corso.

On October 7, 1955 Ferlinghetti was at the Six Gallery reading where:
      Phillip Lamantia read poems by his dead friend John Hoffman.
      McClure read "Point Lobos Animism" and "For the Death of 100 Whales".
      Gary Snyder read "A Berry Feast".
      Philip Whalen read "Plus Ca Change." 
      Allen Ginsberg read Howl.
      Jack Kerouac refused to read his work and shouted "Yeah! Go! Go!" during the performances.
      Neil Cassady passed around a wine jug and a collection plate.
The next day he telegraphed Ginsberg to congratulate him and later offered to publish him.  

After Murao and Ferlinghetti were arrested for obscenity by an undercover cop for selling Howl and the second printing of the book was seized by customs in 1956, the bookshop received mass press and support from the American Civil Liberties Union and literary and academic figures, and defended by the First Amendment, the book was found not obscene in 1957 after a long trial, becoming a landmark civil rights case.

A photo taken in 1965: Upper Top Row: Stella Levy, lawrence Ferlinghetti. Second standing row: Donald Schenker, Michael Grieg, unknown person, Mike Gibbons, David Miltger, Michael McClure, Allan Ginsberg, Dan Langton, Steve Brostan, Gary Goodraw and son Homer, Richard Brautigan (in back of Goodrow). Seated: unknown person, Shig Murao, Lew Welch, Peter Orlovski.

International Poetry Incarnation (June 11 1965)

"Love! Love! Love! Love! love! love! love. love. love. love. love. love.... Love! Love! Love! Love! Love. love. love. Love. Love.
(A breath)...
Come man Come!  Come!"

Who were the Hippies?  In 1965 there were Hipsters, beatniks, bohemians.  Longish-haired Beatlemaniacs drinking and smoking joints, sharing the secret with other heads.  Health-food stores.  Musicians still wore suits and evening dresses in 64, less so in 65.

1965.06.11th the Royal Albert Hall was rented for 450£ and mc'd by Alex Trocchi.  7000 people unexpectedly filled the hall.

Ferlinghetti recited "To Fuck is to Love Again."

Dreaming of utopias
where everyone's a lover
I see San Fransisco from my window
thru some old navy beerbottles
The glass is dark
What's it all about
I move the ships about
in my binoculars
like some mad admiral
Dark Dark Dark
we are all shunted into it
a concrete Crete
freeway pinball labyrinth
cars into tunnels
dancers long gone under the hills
kiss kiss in stone boudoirs
the earth a turbine
storing sexual energy
turning and turning into the dark
under the skyscrapers with their time on top
tickertape time tick tick
civilization and its crickets
The dark thread
draws us all in
into the wind-up labyrinth
undischarged sexual energy
not mine the city's
There's the Fairmont phallus
There's the Mark masturbation
There's the Park there's the cement works
There's the Steam Beer Brewing plant
There's the Actor's Workshop
Nothing brewing there these days
There's the Bay there's that Bridge
There's that treasured Island the Navy doesn't need
We need it but we don't need the Navy
Sail Away forever somewhere why don't you
Ah there's the sun again
There's the Hall of Justice blockhouse
personifying itself
Mussolini Modern
There's the sky there's skywriting
chalk on a mirror
What's it all about
Someone trying to trace something up there
Sun solves it
in the mirror
of eternity
A train pulls out of Third Street Station
not going anywhere
discharge of aimless sexual energy
tick tick over the rails
to a coupling in Palo Alto
Life goes on not going anywhere
Time goes on tick tick
what's it all about
find the tick in the labyrêve
of eternity
follow your thread
around the next corner
I sometimes wonder if that is what Krishnamurti meant
Love's a lost tick and desire fails
As we grow older the clatter becomes more complicated
Put your ear to the flesh and you'll still hear it
tick tick over the rails
bearing us away
And there is a time to die
and there is a time to live
but who's got a bad ticker
and what's everything waiting for
Don't tell me they're still Waiting
We've been thru all that already
even the poets dug it
you could almost dear them beginning to think
tick tick
even the painters finally caught on pop pop
Now it's all over maybe
nothing happening anyplace anymore maybe
especially in San Fransisco baby
stranded whales all over the place
elder statesmen poets high and dry
flopping about out of breath
and a labyrinth the worst place of all
for a whale to find himself
How do we get out
where do we go from here
what's the next development
what's around the next corner
why is everything holding its breath
why am I here typing
turned-on in my attic
holding my breath Om Om
tick tick
I've got a good ticker
I'm winding up my thread
but I am no Prince Theseus nor was meant to be
I'll slay no minotaurs in my Attic retreat
with the sword I use to cut my meat
Still I'm always looking for the action
at the heart of things
Must be something shaking somewhere
someone on some rooftop must be loving
in the hot sun
in this labyrinth of solitude
which is neither cold Crete nor hot Mexico
but is still full of solos
gringo pachucos
trying to trace it out
trying to figure out
what it's all about
and why the sun still goes on turning
and still is god to my dog
The sun the sun behold the sun
Great God Sun still riseth
in our rubaiyat
and strikes the towers with a shaft of light
The sun the sun still rules everything
even the sky as we know it
even love as we know it
even life which is nothing but heat
discharge of sexual energy
And there is a time to embrace
and there is a time to refrain from embracing
and the sun goes on cooling
Discharge of undirected sexual energy
and the Cold War gets cooler and desire fails
Other-directed sexual energy
And there is a time to hate
and there is a time to love
and there is a time to keep silence
and there is a time to speak
and two more government scientists throw in the sponge
Mis-directed sexual energy
But is this cooling-off period to string us out forever
How about some love in the cool-cool climate
how about some instant joy
inner-directed sexual energy
let's get hot again baby
I didn't say Shoot I said Fuck
I'm sorry officer don't take me away
I'm sorry Mother
that's the only word that works
It's a word of love daddy
for which there's no refined substitute
even in French
Still I'm trying to refine it
I'm trying to make it holy
I'm trying to make it socially acceptable
even to Cretan cretins lost in a maze
for to fuck is to love again
and we shall rise up again at the voice of a bird
and there is a time to hate
and there is a time to love
so let's everybody love it up
in the sun
which won't burn on forever and ever
That's the solution Comrade
maybe the only one Comrade
Why are you so puritanical Comrade
kicking Allen Ginsberg out of Czechoslovakia
Let's turn on together Comrade
and you too Colonel Cornpone
I'm serious Comrade
I'm serious Colonel Cornpone
let's repeat it together
To fuck is to love again
kyrie eleison hallelujah
A litany like that
means more to us Romans
than any Hail Mary full of grace
though blessed be the fruit of her womb
And don't think you have to lie down abjectly General
for there is a time to kill
and there is a time to kiss
but the tick of hate is loose in the labyrinth
dies irae dies illa illa illa
and ticks carry diseases but kisses carry love
which is also infectious
And there is a time for war
and there is a time for a piece of love
So get ready General
Ready Get Set Fuck
kyrie kyrie hallelujah
By the right flank Fuck
and blessed be the fruit
By the left flank Fuck
and blessed be the fruit
By the rear Fuck
Blessed Blessed Blessed
So kiss thy neighbor in another country
kyrie kyrie kyrie
exchange fucking populations
kyrie kyrie hallelujah
You send us all your women in babushkas
We'll send you all our men wearing neckties
Americans love travel
We love exotic places and people
We dig Chinese chicks we dig Cuban chicks we dig Arab boys
You'll think yours are exotic too
I'm tired of this climate anyway
you're tired of yours
so let's get together on this
let's get down to bare essentials
and have a mass exchange fuck
a fucking real exchange program
an enormous international hardcore Fuck Corps
And nevermind the protocol
and nevermind the quotas
We've all got our own passe-partout
if to fuck is to love again
And nevermind the overpopulation
Contraception can contain
all but love
And blessed be the fruit of transcopulation
and blessed be the fruit of transcopulation
and blessed be the fucking world with no more nations!
hosanna pulchrissima
kyrie kyrie kyrie kyrie hallelujah!
we'll all still have the sun
in which to recognize ourselves at last across the world
over the obscene boundaries!

San Fransisco-London 1964--1965

The night was documented by Peter Whitehead in his "Wholly Communion".

The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor

This is my version of the Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor. I used 5 or 6 texts, especially John Foster's in World Materpieces (which I copied word for word in some places I couldn't replace better) and the Invisible Books "Isle of Fire". Hereis a site that provides educational information around this tale and other things.

The Tale of the Shipwrecked Sailor

Middle Kingdom Egypt

"Be hale of heart, my good leader! Look, we've made it here!
We've pounded the mooring peg home and the tether's secure;
We've praised and thanked the gods, everyone has embraced!
The whole crew has made it home clear, not a one lost,
Though we went down as down as far as Wawat's marshes, the isle of Es-n-Mewet.
Hey! Our home! Our home land! We've arrived!

Now, hear me out, captain; I am a man who never stretches the truth:
Go purify yourself, wash up,
Then thereafter you'll be able to answer what is put to you,
And you can address the King staunch-hearted, responding without hesitation.
A man's words can save him; speech can soften an angry face..."

"Ah, whatever. Go ahead, then, and say whatever in the world you're going to say. It wears me out, talking to you."

"But let me tell you a story. It's a bit like this,
It happened to me once upon a time.
I shipped out for the royal mines, Sinai,
And had entered into the basin of the great green sea.
The vessel grand: 60 meters long, 20 meters broad,
the crew 120 of the best of Egypt!
Show them sea! Show them land! Their hearts
were braver than lions; sailing-acumen to read the signs of wind
before a storm's coming, smell in the air foul weather's approach.
Yet all were certain, as certain as could be, the wind would
not be harsh, and likely there would be no wind at all.

Well, up came a storm! It roared up, we were
still far from any harbor in that dark. The wind made terrible moans and
the waves raged hungry against the hull, 5 meters high.
I was socked in the stomach by some big piece of wood
I was washed out into sea from the rolling vessel,
the vessel sank, not one man survived.

I was carried, by a great green swell, to
a desert island.
The first three days my heart
was my sole companion. I nested in the shadows of a covering tree.
Finally, that third day, I stretched my legs
in order to discover what there was to eat. What I found:
Figs, grapes, every sort of green:
Sycamore figs, knotched figs, and cucumbers that looked as good as on any farm.
Also there were fish, and birds. There was nothing this island did not have.
I filled myself past satisfaction, spilling and dropping what I'd
gathered in my arms--
I fashioned myself a firedrill, and built myself a fire,
and here I made an offering to the gods.

Then I heard a rumbling. Another storm approaching, the roar
I made out to be the roar of oncoming waves. Trees
were breaking. The ground was vibrating.
I looked through two of the fingers over my face and saw
a huge giant serpent coming my way.
Over 20 meters long, width huge,
It's beard hung down a meter.
It's leather was scales of gold, and lapis lazuli were it's eyes.

Before me it's great mouth opened, and in fear
I trembled down to my belly before him.
He breathed: "What brings you? brings you? little man? what brings you?
Hesitate to respond to me for an instant, and you will find yourself
ashes which will answer no questions again."

"Though you might ask, I am not all quite here to answer.
I am here before you, but I hardly know what's going on."
Then into his mouth he took me and
away he spirited me to the place of his residence,
and again set me down without malignance.
Still whole--no bites were out of me.
He bared his mouth before me again.
I got down on my belly again.
"What brings you? brings you? little man? what brings you? to
this island, in the great green sea, where shores are as shifty as the
changing waves?"
This time I told him all about it. Raising my arms as the gesture addressing the gods,
I started to say, "I was sailing to the region of the royal mines on the kings ship, in a vessel grand, 60 meters long, 20 meters broad, manned my 120 of Egypts best men. Show them sea! Show them land! Braver than lions were they. Each was stronger and braver than the next. Not a slouch in the lot! They could tell a storm coming a mile away, and smell foul weather on the air before any sight.

Then a storm came up! We were still far out in open sea. No chance of reaching harbor.
The wind howled foully, moaning, biting sharp, and there were hungry waves 5 meters high!
Some piece of wood hit me, and then the ship she went down.
Of all those men, best of the men in Egypt, not a one survived.
Only myself here, before you. After that I was carried
by a great green swell to be cast up on this desert island."

Then the snake said to me: "Fear not! fear not! My little man! A pale trembling face you must not show! You have found your way to this island. Look, It is God has let you live that you may be brought to this desert isle. There is nothing this island does not have! It is a land which engenders vitality in all that grows, and it is full of every fine and lovely thing.

Now, you will stay here and you'll spend a month,
then another, then another, until
four months on this island you have passed.
And then a ship will come from Egypt. With sailors in it
whom you know.
And you will go on home with them to die in your own city.
What joy it is for one to tell of the things he has gone through and suffered
when his suffering is over!

But let me tell you a story. It's a bit like this.
It happened once upon on this very isle.
I was here, living with all my family and companions in one big group.
75 persons we totaled. My offspring, relatives, and friends.
There was also a young girl who was washed up here by chance.
A star fell, and they were all gone, burnt up in flame.
It happened while I happened to be away. All burned... and
not even with them.
I wanted to be dead instead of them. After finding them a heap of tangled cinders.

If you have courage, steel your heart
that you may fill your arms with children and kiss
your wife, and see your home.
Believe me, it is better than all else
when you are back again
and dwell within the bosom of your friends."

Here I was flat stretched out forehead to the dirt, bowing
in respect, and I answered, "Let me return to tell
report of your magnificence to my king, all tell about all your
greatness, and arrange to have brought to you
precious ointments, balsam, spices, perfumes, and the sacred oils
and finest incense for the temple, that the gods enjoy.
And tell them all that has happened to me, and
of what I have seen of your power,
and the gods will be praised for your existence in the
Capitol. In the courts and counsils of the land! I will
slaughter cattle and offer them to you on altars. I will wring the necks
of birds for you!
Let me have them bring a fleet to you
laden with the wealth of Egypt, as is done for a foreign god much loved
by men, hitherto unknown, who has shown favor to us in a distant land.

He laughed at this, at what I'd told him. My solemn declaration, the contents
of my heart.
"Your's is no great supply of myrrh. Though it happens
you have incence. While I myself am a king of Punt. The myrrh from there is mine.
And that poor sacred oil you talk of bringing here is the chief product on this island.
And anyway, after you leave here you will never again
see this island, which will shift away with the waves of the sea.

At last, after 4 months, the ship arrived.
I climbed to a height in order to see, and I recognized the crew.
I ran down to report it to the snake
but found he already knew.
Then he opened his huge mouth to me: "Fare well, fare well, my little man. Off to your home to see your little children.
Make a good report of me when you get there. That's one demand I ask of you.
I placed myself on the ground before him and raised my arms gratefully.

Then he gave me a load of cargo. Myrrh, sacred oils, perfumes, spices, kohl, giraffe tails,
incense, elephant tusks, hounds, monkeys and baboons, every good imaginable. I loaded it all
onto the ship.
I prostrated myself again before him, thanking and praising God for him.
Then he said to me: "In two months you shall see your home land. You will hold your children in your arms and grow young again until you die there.
Then I went down to the shore and hailed the crew. Beside the sea I offered thanks to the Lord
of the Isle, and the crew aboard did likewise.

From there we made our way northwards
to the city of the King
In two months we arrived there, just as he had said.
Then I was granted audience with my King
and presented him with my gifts there,
which I had brougt from that island.
He offered thanks to God for my return,
and before the courts and counsils of the Land
I was made a royal Follower and
given 200 servants. Imagine! Me there, returned home,
after seeing all that I had seen!

Now, let what I said to you sink in a little, Captain,
sometimes what people say can help you, you know."

Then he replied, "Don't try to play the expert, friend.
Does one give water to a sacrificial bird
the morning of it's execution day?"

The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedy

My own translation (from the old scots to our tongue) of this early 16th century flyting...


Sir John the Rose, one thing there's written:
In general, Kennedy and Quinting,
Who himself is is above the shining stars
And if any threat were made him
Such a stint of strife would arise
And with pride-swelled breast
As Lucifer that from the heaven descended
Hell couldn't hide their heads from harm's hunting.

The earth would tremble, the firmament would shake
And all the air of venom suddenly stink
And all the devils of Hell fear quake
To hear what I would write with pen and ink.
For if I flyght, some men for shame would sink.
The sea would burn, the moon would suffer eclipse,
Rocks would rife, the world would have no grips
So loud exclaiming the common-bell would clink.

But wonderous loath would I be to bard,
Flyghting to use, right greatly ashamed,
For in its neither winning nor reward,
But tinsel of both honor and fame.
Increase of sorrow, slander, and ill-name,
Yet might they be so bold in their backbiting
To spur me to rhyme and raise the fiend with flyghting
And through all countries and kingdoms them proclaim,
Quod Dunbar to Kennedy.

Durtin* Dunbar, on whom do you think you throw your boast? [beshitten]
Of claiming to write such scabrous verse?
Stank-mawed ribald, you fall down at the feast,
My leareate's letters at you I'll loose.
Mandrake dwarfkin, master but in scorn,
Thrice-shown trumper with one threadbare gown,
Cry for God's Mercy before I cry you down,
And leave thy ryming, ribald, and thy rolls.

Dread, dirtcaked dwarf, that though he disobey it,
My cousin Quintene and my commisar* [deputy]
Fantastik fool, trust you will be put to flight.
Ignorant elf, ape, mishapen owl,
Scabrous skaitbird and common sponger,
Wanfukkit* foundling that nature made a dwarf, [misconceived]
Both John the Rose and you all will squeel and shriek
If ever I hear more of your making poetry.

Here I put silence to thee in all thy parts,
Obey and cease the play that you're pretending.
Weak wastrell and puller of the carts,
See that you make my commisar amends
And let him lay six leeches on your loins,
Meekly in recompensing for your scorn,
Or you shall bane the time that you was born:
For Kennedy to thee this document sends.
Quod Kennedy to Dunbar.

Juge in the nixt quha gat the war

Irish bumming bard, vile beggar with your rags,
Cuntbitten* craven Kennedy, coward by nature make,
Evil-farit* and dried as a Danesman on the wheel,
Like as that kites had on thy gulesnout dined.
Mismade monster, ilk of men our of his mind,
Renounce, ribald, your ryming, you but rave,
Your...
A lowland arse would make a better noise

Riven ragged roook, and full of ribaldry,
Skitterand scorpion, scold in scuriliee,
I see the haughty in your harlotry,
And other sciences nothing sly* [knowledge, skilled]
Of every virtue void, as men may see,
Quit-claim clergy* and take to you a club, [learning]
A bard blasphemer in bribery* for to be, [beggary]
For wit and wisdom one wisp from thee may rub.

You ask, dastard, if I dare with you fight.
Yea, Dagone dumwit, thereof have no doubt,
Wherever we meet, there my hand I pledge,
To rid your ribald rhyming with a rout.
Through all Brittain it will be blown out,
How that you, poisoned pelour*, for your ______, [thief]
With a dog leash I'll make you shout,
And neither to you take knife, sword, or axe.

You crop and rute of traitorous tressonable*,
The father and mother of murder* [and mischief, Dunbar was suspected/accused of murder]
Deceitful tyrant with serpents tongue unstable,
Cuckold, craven coward, and common thief,
You purposed to undo our lord's chief
In Paisley with a poison that was fell* [deadly. Dunbar also accused of attempted mutiny]
For which, you brim, yet will you get a brief.* [summons to court]
Pelour, on you I will this prove myself.

Even if I lie, your frawart* physique [vile]
Does manifest your malice to all men.
Fie, traitor thief, fie glengoir doun*, fie, fie!
Fie, fiendly face far fowler than a fen*, [midden]
My friends you accused with your pen.
Even if I lie, tratour, which on you I'll prove,
Suppose your head was armed times ten,
You will recry* it, or thy crown will cleve. [retract]

Before you dare move your mind malicious,
You saw the sail above my head updrawn.
But Eolus, full wroth, and Neptunus,
Mark and moonless us met with wind and wave,
And many hundred mile hense we were blown
By Holland, Zeeland, Shetland, Norway coast,
In sea desert where we were famished all,
Yet came I home, false bard, to lay low your heart.

TBC