Paul Carroll

Poet and editor Paul Carroll was a vital force on the Chicago poetry scene. He was briefly an editor of the Chicago Review (1957-1958), but when he and coeditors were pressured by the university chancellor to remove controversial pieces from an upcoming issue from William Burroughs’s Naked Lunch, he pulled the entire issue and resigned in protest. Carroll founded the little magazine Big Table, where he published the suppressed material; the United States Post Office then seized 400 copies of the first issue and refused to deliver them, declaring the magazine “obscene,” but their decision was appealed and reversed. Carroll would continue to publish work by innovative writers such as Burroughs, Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, Robert Creeley. He also founded the Poetry Center of Chicago, and in 1985 he won the Chicago Poet’s Award.

CPC Readings

Friday, April 18, 1975
with Ted Berrigan, Peter Kostakis, and Alice Notley
Museum of Contemporary Art

Friday, November 30, 1984
with Alice Notley
The School of the Art Institute of Chicago

Tuesday, June 3, 1986
The School of the Art Institute

Thursday, November 12, 1992
The School of the Art Institute of Chicago Ballroom

Poetry by Paul Carroll

Ode to an All-American Boyhood

To Robert Lowell, Allen Ginsberg, James Dickey

Were you guys lucky, too, to caddy, the light
on freshly-sprinkled fairway delicate and bright as eye of an
     Indiana owl
or glitter of fish flickering in the Shedd Aquarium of the
     imagination,
the tough but tender touch of leather socks covering the cobra-
     headed clubs, the crack
of brassie on golf ball like whip of mule skinner filling all Death
     Valley;
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Valentine

Our matchbox bedroom in the loft above your
sculpture factory
Turns magical at times
Behind its dark blue Druid door.     Last night,
Inside you, sweetheart,
It felt as if I were coming from the soul itself.

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My Mouth Quick with Many Bees
My mouth is snow slowly caking that stiff pigeon.
My mouth, the intricately moist machinery of a plant.
I have forgotten if I ever had a mouth.
I have two mouths.
One like warm rain;
or wind manipulating the worn limbs of an elm.
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