Who is Gregory Corso

Gregory CorsoBornGregory Nunzio Corso
(1930-03-26)March 26, 1930
New York City, New YorkDiedJanuary 17, 2001(2001-01-17) (aged 70)
Minnesota, U.S.OccupationPoet, writerLiterary movementBeat, postmodernism Gregory Nunzio Corso (March 26, 1930 – January 17, 2001) was an Ameri...
Read Full Biography

Gregory Corso Poems

  • The American Way
    I am a great American
    I am almost nationalistic about it!
    I love America like a madness! ...
  • Birthplace Revisited
    I stand in the dark light in the dark
    and look up at my window, I was
    born there. ...
  • Humanity
    What simple profundities
    What profound simplicities
    To sit down among the trees
    and breathe with them ...
  • To A Downfallen Rose
    When I laid aside the verses of Mimnermus,
    I lived a life of canned heat and raw hands,
    alone, not far from my body did I wander,
    walked with a hope of a sudden dreamy forest of gold. ...
  • Last Night I Drove A Car
    Last night I drove a car
    not knowing how to drive
    not owning a car
    I drove and knocked down ...
Read All Poems

Top 10 most used topics by Gregory Corso

Life 11 God 10 I Love You 9 Love 9 Sad 9 Death 9 Time 9 Never 8 Night 8 World 7

Gregory Corso Quotes

Read All Quotes

Comments about Gregory Corso

  • Stormpoetry: (lawrence ferlinghetti, diane di prima, jack kerouac, allen ginsberg, edgar rice burroughs, gregory corso, gary snyder, ted jones, herbert huncke, lucien carr, neal cassady . . .) deadline: open
  • Poetphilly: the american poet goats: 1) emily dickinson 2) walt whitman 3) lucille clifton 4) lawrence ferlinghetti 5) charles bukowski … 100) gregory corso
  • Bernardmeisler: check out this new "bookstore poem" from the great ron kolm, about his run-in with beat poet legend gregory corso!
  • Acevedogaleana: gregory corso.
  • Rusdaboss: wonderful essay by raymond foye
Read All Comments

Write your comment about Gregory Corso

Poem of the day

Percy Bysshe Shelley Poem
 by Percy Bysshe Shelley

If I walk in Autumn's even
While the dead leaves pass,
If I look on Spring-s soft heaven,--
Something is not there which was
Winter's wondrous frost and snow,
Summer's clouds, where are they now?


Read complete poem

Popular Poets