The Bull Moose

Related poetry:

1. The Moose From narrow provinces Of fish and bread and tea, Home of the long tides Where the bay leaves the sea Twice a day and takes The herrings long rides, Where if the river Enters or retreats In a wall of brown foam Depends on if it meets The bay coming in, The bay not at […]...
2. Age-old debate when the old man said I know everything The young girl replied What is everything When the old man said Wisdom is mine The young girl replied What is wisdom When the old man said I am privy to all life’s secrets The young girl replied What is privy When the old man said You […]...
3. Weekend Glory Some clichty folks Don’t know the facts, Posin’ and preenin’ And puttin’ on acts, Stretchin’ their backs. They move into condos Up over the ranks, Pawn their souls To the local banks. Buying big cars They can’t afford, Ridin’ around town Actin’ bored. If they want to learn how to live life right They ought […]...
4. Community Garden I watch the man bend over his patch, A fat gunny sack at his feet. He combs the earth with his fingers, picks up pebbles around Tiny heads of sorrel. Clouds bruise in, clog the sky, the first fat drops pock-mark the dust. The man wipes his hands on his chest, opens the sack, pulls […]...
5. Her south china sea eyes young girl With her south china sea Eyes Where an ocean wind Sighs Stands as she tries. In the silence Between day and night Between hope and dreaming, Water is carved Deep In where a poet grows In where a child to woman Perceives. A young girl dares To paint Her colors true To dance […]...
6. No Sourdough To be a bony feed Sourdough You must, by Yukon Law, Have killed a moose, And robbed a sluice, AND BUNKED UP WITH A SQUAW. . . . Alas! Sourdough I’ll never be. Oh, sad is my excuse: My shooting’s so damn bad, you see. . . I’ve never killed a moose....
7. The Low-Down White This is the pay-day up at the mines, when the bearded brutes come down; There’s money to burn in the streets to-night, so I’ve sent my klooch to town, With a haggard face and a ribband of red entwined in her hair of brown. And I know at the dawn she’ll come reeling home with […]...
8. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
9. House Of Silence The winter sun, golden and tired, Settles on the irregular army Of bottles. Outside the trucks Jostle toward the open road, Outside it’s Saturday afternoon, And young women in black pass by Arm in arm. This bar Is the house of silence, and we drink To silence without raising our voices In the old way. […]...
10. Bottle 'O&#039 I ain’t the kind of bloke as takes to any steady job; I drives me bottle cart around the town; A bloke what keeps ‘is eyes about can always make a bob I couldn’t bear to graft for every brown. There’s lots of handy things about in everybody’s yard, There’s cocks and hens a-runnin’ to […]...
11. God lay dead in heaven God lay dead in heaven; Angels sang the hymn of the end; Purple winds went moaning, Their wings drip-dripping With blood That fell upon the earth. It, groaning thing, Turned black and sank. Then from the far caverns Of dead sins Came monsters, livid with desire. They fought, Wrangled over the world, A morsel. But […]...
12. Music My friend went to the piano; spun the stool A little higher; left his pipe to cool; Picked up a fat green volume from the chest; And propped it open. Whitely without rest, His fingers swept the keys that flashed like swords, . . . And to the brute drums of barbarian hordes, Roaring and […]...
13. Boes I WAITED today for a freight train to pass. Cattle cars with steers butting their horns against the Bars, went by. And a half a dozen hoboes stood on bumpers between Cars. Well, the cattle are respectable, I thought. Every steer has its transportation paid for by the farmer Sending it to market, While the […]...
14. Narcissus, Photographer “…a frozen memory, like any photo, Where nothing is missing, not even, And especially, nothingness…” Julio Cortázar, “Blow Up” Mirror-mad, He photographed reflections: Sunstorms in puddles, Cities in canals, Double portraits framed In sunglasses, The fat phantoms who dance On the flanks of cars. Nothing caught his eye Unless it bent Or glistered Over something […]...
15. Layover Making love in the sun, in the morning sun In a hotel room Above the alley Where poor men poke for bottles; Making love in the sun Making love by a carpet redder than our blood, Making love while the boys sell headlines And Cadillacs, Making love by a photograph of Paris And an open […]...
16. Night Funeral In Harlem Night funeral In Harlem: Where did they get Them two fine cars? Insurance man, he did not pay His insurance lapsed the other day Yet they got a satin box For his head to lay. Night funeral In Harlem: Who was it sent That wreath of flowers? Them flowers came From that poor boy’s friends […]...
17. River Moons THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face, The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head. I saw them last […]...
18. An Indian Summer Day on the Prarie (IN THE BEGINNING) THE sun is a huntress young, The sun is a red, red joy, The sun is an indian girl, Of the tribe of the Illinois. (MID-MORNING) The sun is a smouldering fire, That creeps through the high gray plain, And leaves not a bush of cloud To blossom with flowers of rain. […]...
19. Senex Oh would I could subdue the flesh Which sadly troubles me! And then perhaps could view the flesh As though I never knew the flesh And merry misery. To see the golden hiking girl With wind about her hair, The tennis-playing, biking girl, The wholly-to-my-liking girl, To see and not to care. At sundown on […]...
20. Aztec Mask I wanted a man’s face looking into the jaws and throat Of life With something proud on his face, so proud no smash Of the jaws, No gulp of the throat leaves the face in the end With anything else than the old proud look: Even to the finish, dumped in the dust, Lost among […]...
21. With A Copy Of 'A House Of Pomegranates&#039 Go, little book, To him who, on a lute with horns of pearl, Sang of the white feet of the Golden Girl: And bid him look Into thy pages: it may hap that he May find that golden maidens dance through thee....
22. A Curse For A Nation I heard an angel speak last night, And he said ‘Write! Write a Nation’s curse for me, And send it over the Western Sea.’ I faltered, taking up the word: ‘Not so, my lord! If curses must be, choose another To send thy curse against my brother. ‘For I am bound by gratitude, By love […]...
23. Twenty-Pound Stone It nests in the hollow of my pelvis, I carry it with both hands, as if offering my stomach, as if it were pulling me forward. At night the sun leaks from it, it turns cold, I sleep with it beside my head, I breath for it. Sometimes I dream of hammers. I am hammering […]...
24. The Ballad of Fisher's Boarding-House ‘T was Fultah Fisher’s boarding-house, Where sailor-men reside, And there were men of all the ports From Mississip to Clyde, And regally they spat and smoked, And fearsomely they lied. They lied about the purple Sea That gave them scanty bread, They lied about the Earth beneath, The Heavens overhead, For they had looked too […]...
25. Give Me Back My Rags Just come to my mind My thoughts will scratch out your face Just come into my sight My eyes will start snarling at you Just open your mouth My silence will smash your jaws Just remind me of you My remembering will paw up the ground under your feet That’s what it’s come to between […]...
26. Postcards I’m thinking about you. What else can I say? The palm trees on the reverse Are a delusion; so is the pink sand. What we have are the usual Fractured coke bottles and the smell Of backed-up drains, too sweet, Like a mango on the verge Of rot, which we have also. The air clear […]...
27. The Bulldozer Bull by day And dozes by night. Would that the bulldozer Dozed all the time Would that the bulldozer Would rust in peace. His watchword Let not a witch live His battle cry Better dead than red. Give me if you must The bull himself But not the bulldozer No, not the bulldozer....
28. Human Knowledge Since thou readest in her what thou thyself hast there written, And, to gladden the eye, placest her wonders in groups; Since o’er her boundless expanses thy cords to extend thou art able, Thou dost think that thy mind wonderful Nature can grasp. Thus the astronomer draws his figures over the heavens, So that he […]...
29. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
30. The Grammar Lesson A noun’s a thing. A verb’s the thing it does. An adjective is what describes the noun. In “The can of beets is filled with purple fuzz” Of and with are prepositions. The’s An article, a can’s a noun, A noun’s a thing. A verb’s the thing it does. A can can roll – or […]...
31. Ode To Pornography If you could write down the words Moving through a man’s mind as He masturbates you’d have a quick Bonus bonk read, I used to think. But words were never adequate Or the point in the bar where the girl Is a boy the boy is a girl the two girls Exchange underpants the one […]...
32. Arbolй, Arbolй Tree, tree Dry and green. The girl with the pretty face Is out picking olives. The wind, playboy of towers, Grabs her around the waist. Four riders passed by On Andalusian ponies, With blue and green jackets And big, dark capes. “Come to Cordoba, muchacha.” The girl won’t listen to them. Three young bullfighters passed, […]...
33. The Lost Drink I had spent the night in the watch-house My head was the size of three So I went and asked the chemist To fix up a drink for me; And he brewed it from various bottles With soda and plenty of ice, With something that smelt like lemon, And something that seemed like spice. It […]...
34. Confessions What is he buzzing in my ears? “Now that I come to die, Do I view the world as a vale of tears?” Ah, reverend sir, not I! What I viewed there once, what I view again Where the physic bottles stand On the table’s edge,-is a suburb lane, With a wall to my bedside […]...
35. Once By The Pacific The shattered water made a misty din. Great waves looked over others coming in, And thought of doing something to the shore That water never did to land before. The clouds were low and hairy in the skies, Like locks blown forward in the gleam of eyes. You could not tell, and yet it looked […]...
36. Dippold the Optician What do you see now? Globes of red, yellow, purple. Just a moment! And now? My father and mother and sisters. Yes! And now? Knights at arms, beautiful women, kind faces. Try this. A field of grain-a city. Very good! And now? A young woman with angels bending over her. A heavier lens! And now? […]...
37. The Santa-Fe Trail (A Humoresque) I asked the old Negro, “What is that bird that sings so well?” He answered: “That is the Rachel-Jane.” “Hasn’t it another name, lark, or thrush, or the like?” “No. Jus’ Rachel-Jane.” I. IN WHICH A RACING AUTO COMES FROM THE EAST This is the order of the music of the morning: – First, from […]...
38. Lines on Curll So when Curll’s Stomach the strong Drench o’ercame, (Infus’d in Vengenance of insulted Fame) Th’ Avenger sees, with a delighted Eye, His long Jaws open, and his Colour fly; And while his Guts the keen Emeticks urge, Smiles on the Vomit, and enjoys the Purge....
39. Milkmaid The girl’s far treble, muted to the heat, Calls like a fainting bird across the fields To where her flock lies panting for her voice, Their black horns buried deep in marigolds. They climb awake, like drowsy butterflies, And press their red flanks through the tall branched grass, And as they go their wandering tongues […]...
40. Bones Sling me under the sea. Pack me down in the salt and wet. No farmer’s plow shall touch my bones. No Hamlet hold my jaws and speak How jokes are gone and empty is my mouth. Long, green-eyed scavengers shall pick my eyes, Purple fish play hide-and-seek, And I shall be song of thunder, crash […]...