You Got to Burn to Shine: New and Selected Writings

by John Giorno, William S. Burroughs (Introduction)

The originator of Spoken Word and performance poetry, John Giorno is one of the most influential figures in the world of contemporary performance. You Got to Burn to Shine, his first book in many years, collects intensely rhythmic, sexual and philosophical poetry spanning two decades.
Here, too, are deeply personal memoirs, including the story of his friendship with Andy Warhol (Giorno had an occasionally sexual relationship with Warhol, met his mother, and starred in Warhol's first film Sleep); an anonymous sexual encounter with Keith Haring, an aspiring painter who recognized Giorno in a subway station toilet; and notes toward a Buddhist understanding of death in the age of AIDS.

Genres: Poetry, Queer, Nonfiction, Gay, Art

160 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 1993

About the author

John Giorno was an American poet and performance artist.

Reviews

[jemaz · Rating 3 out of 5]

The Poetry was mid but I think it’s simply dawning upon me that I don’t enjoy reading the Beats or any of those 60s NY poets. Miserable and addicted for what. I really enjoyed his stories with Andy Warhol and Keith Haring though

[aloveiz · Rating 3 out of 5]

The poetry here is for someone else.
The background in to why John Giorno was the subject of Andy Warhol's "sleep" (40 of the 200 pages) is very interesting, however.
The most interesting part is that without at all trying to it makes Warhol seem like a really real artist, (something I don't generally associate with him) and Giorno, like a fan boy. (I think we use the term scenester these days) I don't mean to be derogatory but maybe you'll read this and see what I'm getting at.
I also highly recommend reading the sleep part first and not looking into Giorno's character beforehand- if I say why you'll miss the interesting series of questions that that essay poses.

[D Lyons · Rating 5 out of 5]

and in answer
to your question,
you should
think of me
as being
dead,
you know
after
a few
months
it’s hard
to remember
somebody,
and after
a year
it’s trying
to remember
a party
I went to
last year,
I thought
you’d learn
to love me
but I guess
you never
will
and I thought
I’d learn
to love you
cause you
feel so
good,
but it was
pizza,
quiche,
or beef
Wellington
take
out,
you missed
giving me
what
I want
you missed giving me
what I want,

[Neil McCrea · Rating 4 out of 5]

These works are meant more for the stage than the page, but they hold up to a close reading as well. Of course, reading the shambolic, chant-like passages out loud always adds another level.

In short, the collection as a whole feels like a fever dream experienced by a patient at an AIDS hospice in late 80s NYC.

[roro · Rating 4 out of 5]

how do you rate 3.5 on your phone…. anyway. excellent relic in the historical twink canon

[cy]

Genius… obsessed with his open hearted frankness, his lineation, his heavenlyearthly connection

[Chali · Rating 5 out of 5]

This poetry is designed to be read out loud, so it's best to -- at a minimum-- mouth the words. Save "Suicide Sutra" for a time and place when you are alone and in an ok headspace.

The true gems of this collection are the essays, which have a lyrical quality all to themselves. "Great Anonymous Sex" illustrates what it was like to be a gay man in the city in the 80s through Giorno's anonymous sex with an artist, who turns out to be Keith Haring. The essay on Warhol is fascinating, if disheartening to see another instance in which Warhol completely used others. The essay on AIDS and dying a Buddhist death totally destroyed me.

Read the
poems out loud
Read the poems
out loud
Read the poems out loud.

[Dana Jerman · Rating 5 out of 5]

John is gay first, Buddhist second, poet third. He knows he was in NYC at a magical moment and uses this to elevate himself and this coupled with his (however seemingly true) arrogance concerning what happens during and after death might be enough to put others off. I however still think he's lovely and think he manages to be accessible. The kind of writer I with whom I would like to hang out.