The poetic approach of Mayakovsky has influenced a number of American poets. Most notable probably being Allen Ginsberg, matched equally in political ferociousness as well as in the use of exclamatory readings to propel his verse. A more surprising match would be Frank O’Hara, who was not political, or even in need of a podium for that matter, sitting down with a coke actually being more his style, but he did share in the use of convulsive leaps and associations to infuse the poetry with uncontainable dynamics. The Russian Futurist manifesto, ‘A Slap in the Face of Public Taste’, can clarify further:

We order that the poets’ rights be revered:

To enlarge the scope of the poet’s vocabulary with arbitrary and derivative words (Word-novelty).

To feel an insurmountable hatred for the language existing before their time.

To push with horror off their proud brow the Wreath of cheap fame that You have made from bathhouse switches.

To stand on the rock of the word “we” amidst the sea of boos and outrage.

And if for the time being the filthy stigmas of your “common sense” and “good taste” are still present in our lines, these same lines for the first time already glimmer with the Summer Lightning of the New Coming Beauty of the Self-sufficient (self-centered) Word.

However, after digging a bit further into the origins of Futurism, what I found especially interesting was the connection with the monstrosity of America's Frederick Seidel. If you are not familiar with Seidel, he writes with sort of a perverse blend of couplets, distorted rhyme schemes and free verse to gush about his exclusive privilege as an independently wealthy white male and its abundant lifestyle of sex, exotic travel, fine art, Ducati motorcycles, etc. What was clear to me before was the poetic persona created from imperialism and apocalyptic visions- in which he is at the center of it all- while at the same time displaying an unapologetic (even admirable) lust for life, now reminding me of a character you might find in Bolaño’s 2666. While I could see the duality in Seidel's poetry, I always thought that there was a piece missing from my understanding. Mainly, that there must have been some other poetic lineage which would allow Seidel to be so extreme while also being so well respected, and so important (and also the singular best reason why MFA programs can be critiqued, as no one would dare read such poems before a proctor and fellow peers). But when I read about Filippo Tommaso Emilio Marinetti, who was the founder of the Futurist movement in Italy, it all fell into place. From his own manifesto:

We intend to sing the love of danger, the habit of energy and fearlessness.

Courage, audacity, and revolt will be essential elements of our poetry.

Up to now literature has exalted a pensive immobility, ecstasy, and sleep. We intend to exalt aggresive action, a feverish insomnia, the racer’s stride, the mortal leap, the punch and the slap.

We affirm that the world’s magnificence has been enriched by a new beauty: the beauty of speed. A racing car whose hood is adorned with great pipes, like serpents of explosive breath—a roaring car that seems to ride on grapeshot is more beautiful than the Victory of Samothrace.

We want to hymn the man at the wheel, who hurls the lance of his spirit across the Earth, along the circle of its orbit.

The poet must spend himself with ardor, splendor, and generosity, to swell the enthusiastic fervor of the primordial elements.

Except in struggle, there is no more beauty. No work without an aggressive character can be a masterpiece. Poetry must be conceived as a violent attack on unknown forces, to reduce and prostrate them before man.

We stand on the last promontory of the centuries!... Why should we look back, when what we want is to break down the mysterious doors of the Impossible? Time and Space died yesterday. We already live in the absolute, because we have created eternal, omnipresent speed.

We will glorify war—the world’s only hygiene—militarism, patriotism, the destructive gesture of freedom-bringers, beautiful ideas worth dying for, and scorn for woman.

We will destroy the museums, libraries, academies of every kind, will fight moralism, feminism, every opportunistic or utilitarian cowardice.

We will sing of great crowds excited by work, by pleasure, and by riot; we will sing of the multicolored, polyphonic tides of revolution in the modern capitals; we will sing of the vibrant nightly fervor of arsenals and shipyards blazing with violent electric moons; greedy railway stations that devour smoke-plumed serpents; factories hung on clouds by the crooked lines of their smoke; bridges that stride the rivers like giant gymnasts, flashing in the sun with a glitter of knives; adventurous steamers that sniff the horizon; deep-chested locomotives whose wheels paw the tracks like the hooves of enormous steel horses bridled by tubing; and the sleek flight of planes whose propellers chatter in the wind like banners and seem to cheer like an enthusiastic crowd.