Response to Ferlinghetti's "In The Golden Gate Park That Day

Lawrence Ferlinghetti’s poetry in “San Francisco Poems” has been regarded by some people in lecture as cliché, or lacking the kind of unique poetically profound style found in let’s say Ginsberg, though at times he has also regarded in the same light. I mention this because at times it appears to me that these opinions may perhaps have been formed by overly critical or perhaps even obtuse perspectives deriving from pressures of academia or a staunch pretentiousness found in some Literature majors. Whatever the case may be, these minds tend to over look the overall motivation and process of the construction of these poems and misperceive it as a lack of skill or poetic device. For Ferlinghetti specifically, his rejection of the title “Beat” and his desire to write accessible poetry can overshadow the elaborate profoundness of his work for some. One poem in particular that has great poetic merit in my opinion is, as the title of this blog alludes to, “In Golden Gate Park That Day…”.

Now, I admit I may be reading too much into what may turn out to be a simple poem. But let the first Lit. Major who has not committed the same sin cast the first stone. This poem presents a real perspective of a couple on a typical outing with emphasis on the female perspective. A perspective that can be overlooked in Ginsberg, for example, and at times Brautigan, who exude the kind of male description of sex and to a certain degree, love. On the contrary, from Ferlinghetti we receive the critical moment in which we find the calm rosy picture of a couple’s outing to the park obstructed by real human emotion relayed by fitting imagery.

yet fingering the old flute

which nobody played

and finally looking over

at him

without any particular expression

except a certain awful look

of terrible depression

Noticeably, in this poem there are lines that are common and could be regarded by some as cliché. For instance, in the first set of lines Ferlinghetti reiterates the line “the meadow of the world”. However, whatever arguments made towards calling this poem cliché are sufficiently countered when presented with the final lines quoted above. Here we see virile imagery that alludes to many things without specifically calling them out. For instance, the flute which nobody plays alludes to the fact that perhaps the statement of visibly bringing a flute to the park is for mere aesthetics and part of a false artistry. Surely, we’ve all seen friends and strangers with expensive guitars that only serve the purpose of decoration. Secondly, the women’s “awful look of terrible depression” reveals much more than what one who less familiar would associate with Beat. In this instance, we see real emotion and, arguable, a breakdown of the beat utopia and the patriarchal structure of relationships that can also rear its head in the most leftist of movements. We see, like at times in Brautigan, the visceral side of the life style, but from a female perspective. We see the companion who may be a fraud and the other, who seems to be longing from something more than the life style and what could be interpreted as a subordinate role. Ferlinghetti presents this in an altogether subversive and artistic manner.

Typically we find a deep dedication to artistry, a rejection of the capitalist consumerism, and the stride towards a certain ideal utopia. In contrast, Ferlinghetti presents us with something completely in opposition; he presents us with the reality in the scope of a simple trip to the park. In this simple trip he reveals much more about the nature of relationships, gender, and how these discourses in the setting of the San Francisco liberal movement interact. How then could one make the argument that these poems are altogether cliché?

My point is simply that Ferlinghetti allots more to the discussion than simple clichés and typical representations of Beat culture. While Ginsberg certainly presents us with virile emotion and expressions of human nature and disdain, he does it from an arguably academic poetically experienced language, essentially eliminating the common person from understanding or empathizing with his words. Ferlinghetti merges the two while not relinquishing a certain profoundness about the realities of the culture we are currently studying. Brautigan, as I had mentioned earlier, does the same but from a limited scope and one in which the common person may have trouble associating with. Is it not entirely unique then, when presented with these well regarded poetically fashioned poets, for another poet to emerge and use language that preserves his profundity while simultaneously reaching a larger audience? In my opinion, his adamant denial of introduction in the Beat genre is for a specific reason, and in poems like “In Golden Gate Park That Day…” one can make a sufficient argument that he expresses this rejection.