I Ask You

Related poetry:

1. The Nude Swim On the southwest side of Capri We found a little unknown grotto Where no people were and we Entered it completely And let our bodies lose all Their loneliness. All the fish in us Had escaped for a minute. The real fish did not mind. We did not disturb their personal life. We calmly trailed […]...
2. Candles The days of our future stand in front of us Like a row of little lit candles Golden, warm, and lively little candles. The days past remain behind us, A mournful line of extinguished candles; The ones nearest are still smoking, Cold candles, melted, and bent. I do not want to look at them; their […]...
3. Portrait Of An Old Woman On The College Tavern Wall Oh down at the tavern The children are singing Around their round table And around me still. Did you hear what it said? I only said How there is a pewter urn Pinned to the tavern wall, As old as old is able To be and be there still. I said, the poets are tere […]...
4. Nursery Rhyme For A Twenty-First Birthday You cannot see the walls that divide your hand From his or hers or mine when you think you touch it. You cannot see the walls because they are glass, And glass is nothing until you try to pass it. Beat on it if you like, but not too hard, For glass will break you […]...
5. The Future Give me back my broken night My mirrored room, my secret life It’s lonely here, There’s no one left to torture Give me absolute control Over every living soul And lie beside me, baby, That’s an order! Give me crack and anal sex Take the only tree that’s left And stuff it up the hole […]...
6. The Lonesome Child The baby in the looking-glass Is smiling through at me; She has her teaspoon in her hand, Her feeder on for tea. And if I look behind her I Can see the table spread; I wonder if she has to eat The nasty crusts of bread. Her doll, like mine, is sitting close Beside her […]...
7. Heaven Fish (fly-replete, in depth of June, Dawdling away their wat’ry noon) Ponder deep wisdom, dark or clear, Each secret fishy hope or fear. Fish say, they have their Stream and Pond; But is there anything Beyond? This life cannot be All, they swear, For how unpleasant, if it were! One may not doubt that, somehow, […]...
8. Psalm 119 part 7 Imperfection of nature, and perfection of scripture. Ver. 96, paraphrased. Let all the heathen writers join To form one perfect book; Great God! if once compared with thine, How mean their writings look! Not the most perfect rules they gave Could show one sin forgiv’n, Nor lead a step beyond the grave; But thine conduct […]...
9. Fishing On The Susquehanna In July I have never been fishing on the Susquehanna Or on any river for that matter To be perfectly honest. Not in July or any month Have I had the pleasure if it is a pleasure Of fishing on the Susquehanna. I am more likely to be found In a quiet room like this one A […]...
10. I Go Back To The House For A Book I turn around on the gravel And go back to the house for a book, Something to read at the doctor’s office, And while I am inside, running the finger Of inquisition along a shelf, Another me that did not bother To go back to the house for a book Heads out on his own, […]...
11. The Freedom of the Moon I’ve tried the new moon tilted in the air Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster As you might try a jewel in your hair. I’ve tried it fine with little breadth of luster, Alone, or in one ornament combining With one first-water start almost shining. I put it shining anywhere I please. By walking slowly on […]...
12. Storm Windows People are putting up storm windows now, Or were, this morning, until the heavy rain Drove them indoors. So, coming home at noon, I saw storm windows lying on the ground, Frame-full of rain; through the water and glass I saw the crushed grass, how it seemed to stream Away in lines like seaweed on […]...
13. Today If ever there were a spring day so perfect, So uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze That it made you want to throw Open all the windows in the house And unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, Indeed, rip the little door from its jamb, A day when the cool brick paths And the […]...
14. The River In my first sleep I came to the river And looked down Through the clear water – Only in dream Water so pure, Laced and undulant Lines of flow On its rocky bed Water of life Streaming for ever. A house was there Beside the river And I, arrived, An expected guest About to explore […]...
15. Walking Across The Atlantic I wait for the holiday crowd to clear the beach Before stepping onto the first wave. Soon I am walking across the Atlantic Thinking about Spain, Checking for whales, waterspouts. I feel the water holding up my shifting weight. Tonight I will sleep on its rocking surface. But for now I try to imagine what […]...
16. Suzanne Suzanne takes you down to her place near the river You can hear the boats go by You can spend the night beside her And you know that she’s half crazy But that’s why you want to be there And she feeds you tea and oranges That come all the way from China And just […]...
17. I Won, You Lost The last of day gathers In the yellow parlor And drifts like fine dust Across the face of The gilt-framed mirror I ofien prayed to. An old man’s room Without him, a room I Came back to again And again to steal Cigarettes and loose change, To open cans of sardines, To break open crackers […]...
18. The Dying need but little, Dear The Dying need but little, Dear, A Glass of Water’s all, A Flower’s unobtrusive Face To punctuate the Wall, A Fan, perhaps, a Friend’s Regret And Certainty that one No color in the Rainbow Perceive, when you are gone....
19. Saturday Paseo: Adelina Oranges Do not grow in the sea Neither is there love in Sevilla. You in Dark and the I the sun that’s hot, Loan me your parasol. I’ll wear my jealous reflection, Juice of lemon and lime- And your words, Your sinful little words- Will swim around awhile. Oranges Do not grow in the sea, […]...
20. Litany You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine… – Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass And the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker, And the marsh […]...
21. Gannets I am watching the white gannets Blaze down into the water With the power of blunt spears And a stunning accuracy Even though the sea is riled and boiling And gray with fog And the fish Are nowhere to be seen, They fall, they explode into the water Like white gloves, Then they vanish, Then […]...
22. For The Country THE DREAM This has nothing to do with war Or the end of the world. She Dreams there are gray starlings On the winter lawn and the buds Of next year’s oranges alongside This year’s oranges, and the sun Is still up, a watery circle Of fire settling into the sky At dinner time, but […]...
23. To An Isle In The Water Shy one, shy one, Shy one of my heart, She moves in the firelight Pensively apart. She carries in the dishes, And lays them in a row. To an isle in the water With her would I go. With catries in the candles, And lights the curtained room, Shy in the doorway And shy in […]...
24. Miracles WHY! who makes much of a miracle? As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles, Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan, Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward the sky, Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in the edge of the water, Or stand under trees […]...
25. For K. R. on her Sixtieth Birthday Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you in the dark, Who round with grace this dusky arc Of the grand tour which souls must take. You who have sounded William Blake, And the still pool, to Plato’s mark, Blow out the candles of your cake. They will not leave you […]...
26. The Smiles Of The Bathers The smiles of the bathers fade as they leave the water, And the lover feels sadness fall as it ends, as he leaves his love. The scholar, closing his book as the midnight clock strikes, is hollow and old: The pilot’s relief on landing is no release. These perfect and private things, walling us in, […]...
27. Three Oranges first time my father overheard me listening to This bit of music he asked me, “what is it?” “it’s called Love For Three Oranges,” I informed him. “boy,” he said, “that’s getting it Cheap.” He meant sex. Listening to it I always imagined three oranges Sitting there, You know how orange they can Get, So […]...
28. The Partial Explanation Seems like a long time Since the waiter took my order. Grimy little luncheonette, The snow falling outside. Seems like it has grown darker Since I last heard the kitchen door Behind my back Since I last noticed Anyone pass on the street. A glass of ice-water Keeps me company At this table I chose […]...
29. Song: Memory, hither come Memory, hither come, And tune your merry notes; And, while upon the wind Your music floats, I’ll pore upon the stream Where sighing lovers dream, And fish for fancies as they pass Within the watery glass. I’ll drink of the clear stream, And hear the linnet’s song; And there I’ll lie and dream The day […]...
30. Dr. Sigmund Freud Discovers the Sea Shell Science, that simple saint, cannot be bothered Figuring what anything is for: Enough for her devotions that things are And can be contemplated soon as gathered. She knows how every living thing was fathered, She calculates the climate of each star, She counts the fish at sea, but cannot care Why any one of them […]...
31. Poet As Fisherman I fish for words To say what I fish for, Half-catch sometimes. I have caught little pan fish flashing sunlight (yellow perch, crappies, blue-gills), Lighthearted reeled them in, Filed them on stringers on the shore. A nice mess, we called them, And ate with our fingers, laughing. Once, dreaming of fish in far-off waters, I […]...
32. I threw my arms about those shoulders I threw my arms about those shoulders, glancing At what emerged behind that back, And saw a chair pushed slightly forward, Merging now with the lighted wall. The lamp glared too bright to show The shabby furniture to some advantage, And that is why sofa of brown leather Shone a sort of yellow in a […]...
33. Dinner in a Quick Lunch Room Soup should be heralded with a mellow horn, Blowing clear notes of gold against the stars; Strange entrees with a jangle of glass bars Fantastically alive with subtle scorn; Fish, by a plopping, gurgling rush of waters, Clear, vibrant waters, beautifully austere; Roast, with a thunder of drums to stun the ear, A screaming fife, […]...
34. One Day is there of the Series One Day is there of the Series Termed Thanksgiving Day. Celebrated part at Table Part in Memory. Neither Patriarch nor Pussy I dissect the Play Seems it to my Hooded thinking Reflex Holiday. Had there been no sharp Subtraction From the early Sum Not an Acre or a Caption Where was once a Room Not […]...
35. The Snowflake Which Is Now And Hence Forever Will it last? he says. Is it a masterpiece? Will generation after generation Turn with reverence to the page? Birdseye scholar of the frozen fish, What would he make of the sole, clean, clear Leap of the salmon that has disappeared? To be, yes! whether they like it or not! But not to last when […]...
36. Innocence The height of wisdom seems to me That of a child; So let my ageing vision be Serene and mild. The depth of folly, I aver, Is to fish deep In that dark pool of science where Truth-demons sleep. Let me not be a bearded sage Seeing too clear; In issues of the atom age […]...
37. Ghoti The gh comes from rough, the o from women’s, And the ti from unmentionables presto: There’s the perfect English instance of Unlovablility complete With fish. Our wish was for a better Revelation: for a correspondence If not lexical, at least Phonetic; if not with Madonna Then at least with Mary Magdalene. Instead we get the […]...
38. He Has Lived In Many Houses furnished rooms, flats, a hayloft, A tent, motels, under a table, Under an overturned rowboat, in a villa (briefly) but not, As yet, a yurt. In these places He has slept, eaten, Put his forehead to the window glass, Looking out. He’s in a stilt-house now, The water passing beneath him half the day; The […]...
39. The house where I was born (01) I woke up, it was the house where I was born, Sea foam splashed against the rock, Not a single bird, only the wind to open and close the wave, Everywhere on the horizon the smell of ashes, As if the hills were hiding a fire That somewhere else was burning up a universe. I […]...
40. During Wind And Rain They sing their dearest songs He, she, all of them yea, Treble and tenor and bass, And one to play; With the candles mooning each face…. Ah, no; the years O! How the sick leaves reel down in throngs! They clear the creeping moss Elders and juniors aye, Making the pathways neat And the garden […]...