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1. La Casada Infiel Y que yo me la llevй al rнo Creyendo que era mozuela, Pero tenнa marido. Fue la noche de Santiago Y casi por compromiso. Se apagaron los faroles Y se encendieron los grillos. En las ъltimas esquinas Toquй sus pechos dormidos, Y se me abrieron de pronto Como ramos de jacintos.. El almidуn de su […]...
2. La Guitarra Empieza el llanto De la guitarra. Se rompen las copas De la madrugada. Empieza el llanto De la guitarra. Es inъtil Callarla. Es imposible Callarla. Llora monуtona Como llora el agua, Como llora el viento Sobre la nevada. Es imposible Callarla. Llora por cosas Lejanas. Arena del Sur caliente Que pide camelias blancas. Llora flecha […]...
3. Puedo Escribir Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Escribir, por ejemplo: ‘La noche está estrellada, Y tiritan, azules, los astros, a lo lejos.’ El viento de la noche gira en el cielo y canta. Puedo escribir los versos más tristes esta noche. Yo la quise, y a veces ella también me quiso. En las noches […]...
4. Hymn 145 Christ and Aaron. Heb. 7; 9. Jesus, in thee our eyes behold A thousand glories more, Than the rich gems and polished gold The sons of Aaron wore. They first their own burnt-offerings brought, To purge themselves from sin; Thy life was pure without a spot, And all thy nature clean. [Fresh blood as constant […]...
5. Aaron Stark Withal a meagre man was Aaron Stark, Cursed and unkempt, shrewd, shrivelled, and morose. A miser was he, with a miser’s nose, And eyes like little dollars in the dark. His thin, pinched mouth was nothing but a mark; And when he spoke there came like sullen blows Through scattered fangs a few snarled words […]...
6. Epilogue Those blessиd structures, plot and rhyme Why are they no help to me now I want to make Something imagined, not recalled? I hear the noise of my own voice: The painter’s vision is not a lens, it trembles to caress the light. But sometimes everything I write With the threadbare art of my eye […]...
7. Doctors They work with herbs And penicillin They work with gentleness And the scalpel. They dig out the cancer, Close an incision And say a prayer To the poverty of the skin. They are not Gods Though they would like to be; They are only a human Trying to fix up a human. Many humans die. […]...
8. I reckon when I count it all I reckon when I count it all First Poets Then the Sun Then Summer Then the Heaven of God And then the List is done But, looking back the First so seems To Comprehend the Whole The Others look a needless Show So I write Poets All Their Summer lasts a Solid Year They can […]...
9. 24. Song-No Churchman am I NO churchman am I for to rail and to write, No statesman nor soldier to plot or to fight, No sly man of business contriving a snare, For a big-belly’d bottle’s the whole of my care. The peer I don’t envy, I give him his bow; I scorn not the peasant, though ever so low; […]...
10. 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 […]...
11. Good Friday O my chief good, How shall I measure out thy blood? How shall I count what thee befell, And each grief tell? Shall I thy woes Number according to thy foes? Or, since one star show’d thy first breath, Shall all thy death? Or shall each leaf, Which falls in Autumn, score a grief? Or […]...
12. Snow White, to the Prince after Susan Thomas Truth is, my life was no fairytale, That afternoon, I lay, a smiling corpse Under a glass sky, a rotten apple Lodged in my throat like a black lump Of cancer, your sloppy kiss dying on my lips. Did you really believe a kiss could cure The poison galloping through my veins, […]...
13. A Celebration of Charis: I. His Excuse for Loving Let it not your wonder move, Less your laughter, that I love. Though I now write fifty years, I have had, and have, my peers; Poets, though divine, are men, Some have lov’d as old again. And it is not always face, Clothes, or fortune, gives the grace; Or the feature, or the youth. But […]...
14. Paisaje El campo De olivos Se abre y se cierra Como un abanico. Sobre el olivar Hay un cielo hundido Y una lluvia oscura De luceros frнos. Tiembla junco y penumbra A la orilla del rнo. Se riza el aire gris. Los olivos, Estбn cargados De gritos. Una bandada De pбjaros cautivos, Que mueven sus larguнsimas […]...
15. Charon 2004 I, too, have stood paralyzed at the helm Watching onrushing, inevitable disaster. I too have felt sweat (or ecstatic tears) plaster Damp hair to my eyes, as a slug’s dense film Becomes mucous-insulate. Always, thereafter Living in darkness, bright things overwhelm. Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea...
16. 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...
17. Hortense Robbins My name used to be in the papers daily As having dined somewhere, Or traveled somewhere, Or rented a house in Paris, Where I entertained the nobility. I was forever eating or traveling, Or taking the cure at Baden-Baden. Now I am here to do honor To Spoon River, here beside the family whence I […]...
18. 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...
19. How many schemes may die How many schemes may die In one short Afternoon Entirely unknown To those they most concern The man that was not lost Because by accident He varied by a Ribbon’s width From his accustomed route The Love that would not try Because beside the Door It must be competitions Some unsuspecting Horse was tied Surveying […]...
20. Like Some Old fashioned Miracle Like Some Old fashioned Miracle When Summertime is done Seems Summer’s Recollection And the Affairs of June As infinite Tradition As Cinderella’s Bays Or Little John of Lincoln Green Or Blue Beard’s Galleries Her Bees have a fictitious Hum Her Blossoms, like a Dream Elate us till we almost weep So plausible they seem Her […]...
21. Somewhere upon the general Earth Somewhere upon the general Earth Itself exist Today The Magic passive but extant That consecrated me Indifferent Seasons doubtless play Where I for right to be Would pay each Atom that I am But Immortality Reserving that but just to prove Another Date of Thee Oh God of Width, do not for us Curtail Eternity!...
22. At the California Institute of Technology I don’t care how God-damn smart These guys are: I’m bored. It’s been raining like hell all day long And there’s nothing to do. Written January 24, 1967 While poet-in-residence at The California Institute of Technology....
23. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
24. The Panther His vision, from the constantly passing bars, Has grown so weary that it cannot hold Anything else. It seems to him there are A thousand bars and behind the bars, no world. As he paces in cramped circles, over and over, The movement of his powerful soft strides Is like a ritual dance around a […]...
25. From My Last Years FROM my last years, last thoughts I here bequeath, Scatter’d and dropt, in seeds, and wafted to the West, Through moisture of Ohio, prairie soil of Illinois-through Colorado, California air, For Time to germinate fully....
26. The Mountain And The Lake I know a mountain thrilling to the stars, Peerless and pure, and pinnacled with snow; Glimpsing the golden dawn o’er coral bars, Flaunting the vanisht sunset’s garnet glow; Proudly patrician, passionless, serene; Soaring in silvered steeps where cloud-surfs break; Virgin and vestal Oh, a very Queen! And at her feet there dreams a quiet lake. […]...
27. No Man can compass a Despair No Man can compass a Despair As round a Goalless Road No faster than a Mile at once The Traveller proceed Unconscious of the Width Unconscious that the Sun Be setting on His progress So accurate the One At estimating Pain Whose own has just begun His ignorance the Angel That pilot Him along...
28. Psalm 119 part 5 Delight in Scripture; or, The word of God dwelling in us. Ver. 97 O how I love thy holy law! ‘Tis daily my delight; And thence my meditations draw Divine advice by night. Ver. 148 My waking eyes prevent the day To meditate thy word; My soul with longing melts away To hear thy gospel, […]...
29. Muriу Al Amanecer Noche de cuatro lunas Y un solo бrbol, Con una sola sombra Y un solo pбjaro. Busco en mi carne las Huellas de tus labios. El manantial besa al viento Sin tocarlo. Llevo el No que me diste, En la palma de la mano, Como un limуn de cera Casi blanco. Noche de cuatro lunas […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. Poetry it Takes A lot of Desperation Dissatisfaction And Disillusion To Write A Few Good Poems. It’s not For Everybody Either to Write It Or even to Read It....
32. Modern Love XIV: What Soul Would Bargain What soul would bargain for a cure that brings Contempt the nobler agony to kill? Rather let me bear on the bitter ill, And strike this rusty bosom with new stings! It seems there is another veering fit Since on a gold-haired lady’s eyeballs pure, I looked with little prospect of a cure, The while […]...
33. These are the Signs to Nature's Inns These are the Signs to Nature’s Inns Her invitation broad To Whosoever famishing To taste her mystic Bread These are the rites of Nature’s House The Hospitality That opens with an equal width To Beggar and to Bee For Sureties of her staunch Estate Her undecaying Cheer The Purple in the East is set And […]...
34. The Healer “Tuberculosis should not be,” The old professor said. “If folks would hearken unto me ‘Twould save a million dead. Nay, no consumptive needs to die, A cure have I. “From blood of turtle I’ve distilled An elixir of worth; Let every sufferer be thrilled And sing for joy of earth; Yet every doctor turns his […]...
35. The News 1) Eleven forty-five a. m. Someone sent me news Through the rain: “good mourning!” 2) I hastened to you, father Though none of us could prevent These two things from befalling...
36. I Know The Face Of Falsehood And Her Tongue I know the face of Falsehood and her Tongue Honeyed with unction, Plausible with guile, Are dear to men, whom count me not among, That owe their daily credit to her smile; Such have been succoured out of great distress By her contriving, if accounts be true: Their deference now above the board, I guess, […]...
37. Peekabo, I Almost See You Middle-aged life is merry, and I love to Lead it, But there comes a day when your eyes Are all right but your arm isn’t long Enough To hold the telephone book where you can read it, And your friends get jocular, so you go To the oculist, And of all your friends he is […]...
38. 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 […]...
39. Dire Cure “First, do no harm,” the Hippocratic Oath begins, but before she might enjoy Such balm, the docs had to harm her tumor. It was large, rare, and so anomalous In its behavior that at first they mis- Diagnosed it. “Your wife will die of it Within a year.” But in ten days or so I […]...
40. I think to Live may be a Bliss I think to Live may be a Bliss To those who dare to try Beyond my limit to conceive My lip to testify I think the Heart I former wore Could widen till to me The Other, like the little Bank Appear unto the Sea I think the Days could every one In Ordination stand […]...