At a Window

Related poetry:

1. Street Window THE PAWN-SHOP man knows hunger, And how far hunger has eaten the heart Of one who comes with an old keepsake. Here are wedding rings and baby bracelets, Scarf pins and shoe buckles, jeweled garters, Old-fashioned knives with inlaid handles, Watches of old gold and silver, Old coins worn with finger-marks. They tell stories....
2. Song by the Window Before Bed Little Star, little Star, Come down quick. The Moon is a bogey-man; He’ll eat you certain if he can. Little Star, little Star, Come down quick! Little Star, little Star, Whisper “Yes.” The trees are just niggers all, They look so black, the are so tall. Little Star, little Star, Whisper “Yes” Little Star, little […]...
3. Smoke Rose Gold THE DOME of the capitol looks to the Potomac river. Out of haze over the sunset, Out of a smoke rose gold: One star shines over the sunset. Night takes the dome and the river, the sun and the smoke rose gold, The haze changes from sunset to star. The pour of a thin silver […]...
4. The Road and the End I SHALL foot it Down the roadway in the dusk, Where shapes of hunger wander And the fugitives of pain go by. I shall foot it In the silence of the morning, See the night slur into dawn, Hear the slow great winds arise Where tall trees flank the way And shoulder toward the sky. […]...
5. Sandhill People I TOOK away three pictures. One was a white gull forming a half-mile arch from the pines toward Waukegan. One was a whistle in the little sandhills, a bird crying either to the sunset gone or the dusk come. One was three spotted waterbirds, zigzagging, cutting scrolls and jags, writing a bird Sanscrit of wing […]...
6. Chicks THE CHICK in the egg picks at the shell, cracks open one oval world, and enters another oval world. “Cheep… cheep… cheep” is the salutation of the newcomer, the emigrant, the casual at the gates of the new world. “Cheep… cheep” … from oval to oval, sunset to sunset, star to star. It is at […]...
7. The Window All night long, by a distant bell, The passing hours were notched On the dark, while her breathing rose and fell, And the spark of life I watched In her face was glowing or fading, who could tell? And the open window of the room, With a flare of yellow light, Was peering out into […]...
8. But for the Grace of God “There, but for the grace of God, goes…” There is a question that I ask, And ask again: What hunger was half-hidden by the mask That he wore then? There was a word for me to say That I said not; And in the past there was another day That I forgot: A dreary, cold, […]...
9. The Pilot Up in a dirty window in a dark room is a star Which an old man can see. He looks at it. He can See it. It is the star of the room; an electrical Freckle that has fallen out of his head and gotten Stuck in the dirt on the window. He thinks he […]...
10. Boy at the Window Seeing the snowman standing all alone In dusk and cold is more than he can bear. The small boy weeps to hear the wind prepare A night of gnashings and enormous moan. His tearful sight can hardly reach to where The pale-faced figure with bitumen eyes Returns him such a God-forsaken stare As outcast Adam […]...
11. I Sit By The Window I said fate plays a game without a score, And who needs fish if you’ve got caviar? The triumph of the Gothic style would come to pass And turn you on no need for coke, or grass. I sit by the window. Outside, an aspen. When I loved, I loved deeply. It wasn’t often. I […]...
12. The Loneliness One dare not sound The Loneliness One dare not sound And would as soon surmise As in its Grave go plumbing To ascertain the size The Loneliness whose worst alarm Is lest itself should see And perish from before itself For just a scrutiny The Horror not to be surveyed But skirted in the Dark With Consciousness suspended And […]...
13. At the Window I have not always had this certainty, this pessimism which reassures the best among us. There was A time when my friends laughed at me. I was not the master of my words. A certain indifference, I Have not always known well what I wanted to say, but most often it was because I had […]...
14. A Form Of Women I have come far enough From where I was not before To have seen the things Looking in at me from through the open door And have walked tonight By myself To see the moonlight And see it as trees And shapes more fearful Because I feared What I did not know But have wanted […]...
15. The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
16. They called me to the Window, for They called me to the Window, for ” ‘Twas Sunset” Some one said I only saw a Sapphire Farm And just a Single Herd Of Opal Cattle feeding far Upon so vain a Hill As even while I looked dissolved Nor Cattle were nor Soil But in their stead a Sea displayed And Ships of […]...
17. At The Window Every morning, as I walk down From my dreary lodgings, toward the town, I see at a window, near the street, The face of a woman, fair and sweet, With soft brown eyes and chestnut hair, And red lips, warm with the kisses left there. And she stands there as long as she can see […]...
18. My Song This song of mine will wind its music around you, my child, like The fond arms of love. This song of mine will touch your forehead like a kiss of Blessing. When you are alone it will sit by your side and whisper in Your ear, when you are in the crowd it will fence […]...
19. A Prayer Again! Come, give, yield all your strength to me! From far a low word breathes on the breaking brain Its cruel calm, submission’s misery, Gentling her awe as to a soul predestined. Cease, silent love! My doom! Blind me with your dark nearness, O have mercy, beloved enemy of my will! I dare not withstand […]...
20. Prayers After World War WANDERING oversea dreamer, Hunting and hoarse, Oh daughter and mother, Oh daughter of ashes and mother of blood, Child of the hair let down, and tears, Child of the cross in the south And the star in the north, Keeper of Egypt and Russia and France, Keeper of England and Poland and Spain, Make us […]...
21. Between Two Hills Between two hills The old town stands. The houses loom And the roofs and trees And the dusk and the dark, The damp and the dew Are there. The prayers are said And the people rest For sleep is there And the touch of dreams Is over all....
22. Zilpha Marsh At four o’clock in late October I sat alone in the country school-house Back from the road ‘mid stricken fields, And an eddy of wind blew leaves on the pane, And crooned in the flue of the cannon-stove, With its open door blurring the shadows With the spectral glow of a dying fire. In an […]...
23. The Lighted Window A lighted window floats through the night Like a piece of paper in the wind. I want to see into it. I want to climb Through into its lighted room. As I reach for it it slips through the Trees. As I chase it it rolls and tumbles Into the air and skitters on through […]...
24. Wind and Window Flower LOVERS, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil Was melted down at noon, And the cagèd yellow bird Hung over her in tune, He marked her through the pane, He could not help but mark, And only passed […]...
25. Girl In A Miniskirt Reading The Bible Outside My Window Sunday, I am eating a Grapefruit, church is over at the Russian Orthadox to the West. She is dark Of Eastern descent, Large brown eyes look up from the Bible Then down. a small red and black Bible, and as she reads Her legs keep moving, moving, She is doing a slow rythmic dance Reading […]...
26. Sunset From Omaha Hotel Window INTO the blue river hills The red sun runners go And the long sand changes And to-day is a goner And to-day is not worth haggling over. Here in Omaha The gloaming is bitter As in Chicago Or Kenosha. The long sand changes. To-day is a goner. Time knocks in another brass nail. Another yellow […]...
27. My Longshore Lass Far in the mellow western sky, Above the restless harbor bar, A beacon on the coast of night, Shines out a calm, white evening star; But your deep eyes, my ‘longshore lass, Are brighter, clearer far. The glory of the sunset past Still gleams upon the water there, But all its splendor cannot match The […]...
28. The Having To Love Something Else There was a man who would marry his mother, and asked his Father for his mother’s hand in marriage, and was told he could Not marry his mother’s hand because it was attached to all The rest of mother, which was all married to his father; that He’d have to love something else. . . […]...
29. A Conceit Give me your hand Make room for me To lead and follow You Beyond this rage of poetry. Let others have The privacy of Touching words And love of loss Of love. For me Give me your hand....
30. Trying To Pray This time, I have left my body behind me, crying In its dark thorns. Still, There are good things in this world. It is dusk. It is the good darkness Of women’s hands that touch loaves. The spirit of a tree begins to move. I touch leaves. I close my eyes and think of water....
31. For M. W There is no transcience of twilight in The beauty of your soft dusk-dimpled face, No flicker of a slender flame in space, In crucibles, fragility crystalline. There is no fragrance of the jessamine About you, no pathos of some old place At dusk, that crumbles like moth-eaten lace Beneath the touch. Nor has there ever […]...
32. Late Love How they strut about, people in love, How tall they grow, pleased with themselves, Their hair, glossy, their skin shining. They don’t remember who they have been. How filmic they are just for this time. How important they’ve become – secret, above The order of things, the dreary mundane. Every church bell ringing, a fresh […]...
33. Verses on Sir Joshua Reynold’s Painted Window at New College, Oxford Ah, stay thy treacherous hand, forbear to trace Those faultless forms of elegance and grace! Ah, cease to spread the bright transparent mass, With Titian’s pencil, o’er the speaking glass! Nor steal, by strokes of art with truth combin’d, The fond illusions of my wayward mind! For long, enamour’d of a barbarous age, A faithless […]...
34. On A Cape May Warbler Who Flew Against My Window She’s stopped in her southern tracks Brought haply to this hard knock When she shoots from the tall spruce And snaps her neck on the glass. From the fall grass I gather her And give her to my silent children Who give her a decent burial Under the dogwood in the garden. They lay their […]...
35. The Thought-Fox I imagine this midnight moment’s forest: Something else is alive Beside the clock’s loneliness And this blank page where my fingers move. Through the window I see no star: Something more near Though deeper within darkness Is entering the loneliness: Cold, delicately as the dark snow, A fox’s nose touches twig, leaf; Two eyes serve […]...
36. The Harbor PASSING through huddled and ugly walls By doorways where women Looked from their hunger-deep eyes, Haunted with shadows of hunger-hands, Out from the huddled and ugly walls, I came sudden, at the city’s edge, On a blue burst of lake, Long lake waves breaking under the sun On a spray-flung curve of shore; And a […]...
37. Lean Out of the Window Lean out of the window, Goldenhair, I hear you singing A merry air. My book was closed, I read no more, Watching the fire dance On the floor. I have left my book, I have left my room, For I heard you singing Through the gloom. Singing and singing A merry air, Lean out of […]...
38. Three Pieces on the Smoke of Autumn SMOKE of autumn is on it all. The streamers loosen and travel. The red west is stopped with a gray haze. They fill the ash trees, they wrap the oaks, They make a long-tailed rider In the pocket of the first, the earliest evening star.. . . Three muskrats swim west on the Desplaines River. […]...
39. Troths YELLOW dust on a bumble Bee’s wing, Grey lights in a woman’s Asking eyes, Red ruins in the changing Sunset embers: I take you and pile high The memories. Death will break her claws On some I keep....
40. Paradise Motel Millions were dead; everybody was innocent. I stayed in my room. The President Spoke of war as of a magic love potion. My eyes were opened in astonishment. In a mirror my face appeared to me Like a twice-canceled postage stamp. I lived well, but life was awful. There were so many soldiers that day, […]...