
His “Constantly risking absurdity and death…”, from "A Coney Island Of The Mind" is the best ever poem on what it is to be a poet.
Lawrence Ferlinghetti would probably not consider himself a beat poet, but the rest of us do - and Jack Kerouac, Burroughs and Ginsberg all owe him an awful lot; as publisher (City Lights), and as friend.
This is from "A Coney Island Of The Mind". In this one, Birth Of The Cool explains that no beat poet had a ‘real job’ in the Beat world, that is, except their women.