POEM FOR JACK MICHELINE
The street poet Jack Micheline was born on this day in 1929. If you’ve been a follower of this page for some time, you’ve probably come across his outlaw poetry. I’ve also written a little bio poem about him.
Jack Micheline was a frenetic poet and painter who loitered with the Beat Generation before plunging headlong into the counterculture of the '60s and '70s.
He was a product of the Bronx's rough edges, hustling through dead-end jobs while secretly cultivating a love for the written word and the wild rhythms of jazz. The raw pulse of street life beat through his veins and bled onto the page, making his poetry a reflection of the restless, ragged world around him.
He never broke into the mainstream—thank God—but Micheline carved out his own field in the underground, where real art lives. His poetry strayed far from the confines of literary elites, which earned him respect from the outcasts, the misfits, and the people who lived on the fringes of polite society.
LA poet Charles Bukowski gave rare praise to other poets and writers, but with Micheline, he once said: “Micheline is all right—he’s one-third bullshit, but he’s got a special divinity and a special strength…I like the way his poems roll and flow. His poems are total feelings beating their heads on barroom floors. I can’t think of anyone who has more and who has been neglected more. Jack is the last of the holy preachers sailing down Broadway singing the song.”
When Micheline finally took his last breath in 1998 on a bus in San Fran, he left behind a body of work that still throbs with the raw, untamed energy of the streets. Micheline was no ordinary poet—he was a street prophet, a rebel spirit who will always resonate with those who feel the fire of outsider art burning in their guts.
Below is a brief poem that Micheline’s friend and fellow poet A. D. Winans penned in honor of the great street poet. I hope you enjoy it.
He was the high note of a wailing saxophone The spark that ignites a fire He was a fifth of Jack Daniel’s A glass of imported beer A shaman A vagabond poet shuffling words Like a river-boat gambler Ravished by illness Ravished by time He painted his visions on canvass In parks in bars and coffee houses His poems singing out across the Streets of America Pure innocence Pure genius Spinning words that hung in the air Like a hummingbird drunk on the Pollen of life
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Micheline had a huge influence on the SF poets of my generation & beyond. The poems that made us love him are in this collection from Zeitgeist Press, edited by William Taylor Jr. https://www.zeitgeist-press.com/index.php/product-category/authors/jack-micheline/
My friend Connie was a poet, we were at community college together. She used to go to open mikes in San Francisco with Micheline. And I saw him read with Allen Ginsburg at the SF Poetry Fest, the weekend before the 1989 earthquake. Fun times.