Imagining Defeat

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1. Imagining you'd come to say goodbye Imagining you’d come to say goodbye, I made a doll of raffia and string. I gave her thatch hair, and a broomstick skirt Of patchwork satin rags. Around each eye I stitched thick lashes. Such a touching thing She was! That even you could not debate – Impassive, undemanding and inert. Yes, surely she’d cause […]...
2. A Song of Defeat The line breaks and the guns go under, The lords and the lackeys ride the plain; I draw deep breaths of the dawn and thunder, And the whole of my heart grows young again. For our chiefs said ‘Done,’ and I did not deem it; Our seers said ‘Peace,’ and it was not peace; Earth […]...
3. My Portion is Defeat today My Portion is Defeat today A paler luck than Victory Less Paeans fewer Bells The Drums don’t follow Me with tunes Defeat a somewhat slower means More Arduous than Balls ‘Tis populous with Bone and stain And Men too straight to stoop again, And Piles of solid Moan And Chips of Blank in Boyish Eyes […]...
4. In Sark Abreast and ahead of the sea is a crag’s front cloven asunder With strong sea-breach and with wasting of winds whence terror is Shed As a shadow of death from the wings of the darkness on waters that Thunder Abreast and ahead. At its edge is a sepulchre hollowed and hewn for a lone man’s […]...
5. Song of the Little White Girl Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, what is the matter? Why are you shaking so? Why do you chatter? Because it is just a white baby you see, And it’s the black ones you like, cabbage tree? Cabbage tree, cabbage tree, you’re a strange fellow With your green hair and your legs browny-yellow. Wouldn’t you like to […]...
6. Solid, Ironical, Rolling Orb SOLID, ironical, rolling orb! Master of all, and matter of fact!-at last I accept your terms; Bringing to practical, vulgar tests, of all my ideal dreams, And of me, as lover and hero....
7. But Not Forgotten I think, no matter where you stray, That I shall go with you a way. Though you may wander sweeter lands, You will not soon forget my hands, Nor yet the way I held my head, Nor all the tremulous things I said. You still will see me, small and white And smiling, in the […]...
8. Cacoethes Scribendi If all the trees in all the woods were men; And each and every blade of grass a pen; If every leaf on every shrub and tree Turned to a sheet of foolscap; every sea Were changed to ink, and all earth’s living tribes Had nothing else to do but act as scribes, And for […]...
9. Roads Go Ever On Roads go ever ever on, Over rock and under tree, By caves where never sun has shone, By streams that never find the sea; Over snow by winter sown, And through the merry flowers of June, Over grass and over stone, And under mountains in the moon. Roads go ever ever on, Under cloud and […]...
10. Nostos There was an apple tree in the yard This would have been Forty years ago behind, Only meadows. Drifts Of crocus in the damp grass. I stood at that window: Late April. Spring Flowers in the neighbor’s yard. How many times, really, did the tree Flower on my birthday, The exact day, not Before, not […]...
11. From Citron-Bower From citron-bower be her bed, Cut from branch of tree a-flower, Fashioned for her maidenhead. From Lydian apples, sweet of hue, Cut the width of board and lathe, Carve the feet from myrtle-wood. Let the palings of her bed Be quince and box-wood overlaid With the scented bark of yew. That all the wood in […]...
12. My Book Before I drink myself to death, God, let me finish up my Book! At night, I fear, I fight for breath, And wake up whiter than a spook; And crawl off to a bistro near, And drink until my brain is clear. Rare Absinthe! Oh, it gives me strength To write and write; and so […]...
13. The End of the World Here, at the end of the world, The flowers bleed As if they were hearts, The hearts ooze a darkness Like india ink, & poets dip their pens in & they write. “Here, at the end of the world,” They write, Not knowing what it means. “Here, where the sky nurses on black milk, Where […]...
14. Rice Pudding What is the matter with Mary Jane? She’s crying with all her might and main, And she won’t eat her dinner – rice pudding again – What is the matter with Mary Jane? What is the matter with Mary Jane? I’ve promised her dolls and a daisy-chain, And a book about animals – all in […]...
15. Noon I bend to the ground To catch Something whispered, Urgent, drifting Across the ditches. The heaviness of Flies stuttering In orbit, dirt Ripening, the sweat Of eggs. There are Small streams The width ofa thumb Running in the villages Of sheaves, whole Eras of grain Wakening on The stalks, a roof That breathes over My […]...
16. Poeta Fit, Non Nascitur “How shall I be a poet? How shall I write in rhyme? You told me once the very wish Partook of the sublime: Then tell me how. Don’t put me off With your ‘another time’.” The old man smiled to see him, To hear his sudden sally; He liked the lad to speak his mind […]...
17. Operation Memory We were smoking some of this knockout weed when Operation Memory was announced. To his separate bed Each soldier went, counting backwards from a hundred With a needle in his arm. And there I was, in the middle Of a recession, in the middle of a strange city, between jobs And apartments and wives. Nobody […]...
18. The Little Box The little box gets her first teeth And her little length Little width little emptiness And all the rest she has The little box continues growing The cupboard that she was inside Is now inside her And she grows bigger bigger bigger Now the room is inside her And the house and the city and […]...
19. A Week Later A week later, I said to a friend: I don’t Think I could ever write about it. Maybe in a year I could write something. There is something in me maybe someday To be written; now it is folded, and folded, And folded, like a note in school. And in my dream Someone was playing […]...
20. Letter To My Wife 11-11-1933 Bursa Prison My one and only! Your last letter says: “My head is throbbing, my heart is stunned!” You say: “If they hang you, if I lose you, I’ll die!” You’ll live, my dear My memory will vanish like black smoke in the wind. Of course you’ll live, red-haired lady of my heart: In […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. Rosemary Beauty and Beauty’s son and rosemary – Venus and Love, her son, to speak plainly – Born of the sea supposedly, At Christmas each, in company, Braids a garland of festivity. Not always rosemary – Since the flight to Egypt, blooming indifferently. With lancelike leaf, green but silver underneath, Its flowers – white originally – […]...
23. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
24. Pull A String, A Puppet Moves each man must realize That it can all disappear very Quickly: The cat, the woman, the job, The front tire, The bed, the walls, the Room; all our necessities Including love, Rest on foundations of sand – And any given cause, No matter how unrelated: The death of a boy in Hong Kong Or a […]...
25. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
26. The First Jasmines Ah, these jasmines, these white jasmines! I seem to remember the first day when I filled my hands with These jasmines, these white jasmines. I have loved the sunlight, the sky and the green earth; I have heard the liquid murmur of the river thorough the Darkness of midnight; Autumn sunsets have come to me […]...
27. Daylight is Dying The daylight is dying Away in the west, The wild birds are flying In silence to rest; In leafage and frondage Where shadows are deep, They pass to its bondage The kingdom of sleep And watched in their sleeping By stars in the height, They rest in your keeping, O wonderful night. When night doth […]...
28. The Daylight is Dying The daylight is dying Away in the west, The wild birds are flying In silence to rest; In leafage and frondage Where shadows are deep, They pass to its bondage – The kingdom of sleep. And watched in their sleeping By stars in the height, They rest in your keeping, Oh, wonderful night. When night […]...
29. Upon the saying that my VERSES were made by another NExt Heaven my Vows to thee (O Sacred Muse! ) I offer’d up, nor didst thou them refuse. O Queen of Verse, said I, if thou’lt inspire, And warm my Soul with thy Poetique Fire, No Love of Gold shall share with thee my Heart, Or yet Ambition in my Brest have Part, More Rich, […]...
30. Remembered Women FOR a woman’s face remembered as a spot of quick light on the flat land of dark night, For this memory of one mouth and a forehead they go on in the gray rain and the mud, they go on among the boots and guns. The horizon ahead is a thousand fang flashes, it is […]...
31. Tonight I Can Write Tonight I can write the saddest lines. Write, for example, ‘The night is starry And the stars are blue and shiver in the distance.’ The night wind revolves in the sky and sings. Tonight I can write the saddest lines. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. Through nights like this one I […]...
32. Inferential Although I saw before me there the face Of one whom I had honored among men The least, and on regarding him again Would not have had him in another place, He fitted with an unfamiliar grace The coffin where I could not see him then As I had seen him and appraised him when […]...
33. Merlin O Merlin in your crystal cave Deep in the diamond of the day, Will there ever be a singer Whose music will smooth away The furrow drawn by Adam’s finger Across the memory and the wave? Or a runner who’ll outrun Man’s long shadow driving on, Break through the gate of memory And hang the […]...
34. The Gyres The gyres! the gyres! Old Rocky Face, look forth; Things thought too long can be no longer thought, For beauty dies of beauty, worth of worth, And ancient lineaments are blotted out. Irrational streams of blood are staining earth; Empedocles has thrown all things about; Hector is dead and there’s a light in Troy; We […]...
35. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
36. Saddest Poem I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. Write, for instance: “The night is full of stars, And the stars, blue, shiver in the distance.” The night wind whirls in the sky and sings. I can write the saddest poem of all tonight. I loved her, and sometimes she loved me too. On nights […]...
37. Called Into Play Fall fell: so that’s it for the leaf poetry: Some flurries have whitened the edges of roads And lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: & Turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to Find something to write about I haven’t already Written away: I will have to stop short, look Down, look […]...
38. When I was a Bird I climbed up the karaka tree Into a nest all made of leaves But soft as feathers. I made up a song that went on singing all by itself And hadn’t any words, but got sad at the end. There were daisies in the grass under the tree. I said just to try them: “I’ll […]...
39. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
40. The Christmas Tree In the dark and damp of the alley cold, Lay the Christmas tree that hadn’t been sold; By a shopman dourly thrown outside; With the ruck and rubble of Christmas-tide; Trodden deep in the muck and mire, Unworthy even to feed a fire… So I stopped and salvaged that tarnished tree, And thus is the […]...