Jack Gilbert (1925-2012) was the last of the Romantic poets. Though he was born the same year as Kenneth Koch and Bob Kaufman, he was not part of the Beat Generation. His closest compatriot in poetry was his friend Gerald Stern, who was also born in Pittsburgh a few days after Gilbert. In his own words his poetry is about being “flayed bare.”
Gilbert was part of the San Francisco Renaissance, and was a participant in Jack Spicer’s workshop there. He became friendly with Allen Ginsberg at the same time, because Ginsberg, fresh from New York, was explaining anapests to someone, but getting it wrong. Gilbert corrected him, and after some arguing, Ginsberg took out a matchbook, wrote his address on it, and gave it to Gilbert.
He was the last Romantic poet because of his devotion to spontaneity, to a belief in a solitary life apart from literary fame, apart from society, and his commitment of his imagination to beauty above all else. Gilbert’s uncompromising poetry has only a handful of themes: the goddess-like beauty of women, getting close to reality through nature, and understanding death.
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