Why I Went To The Foot

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1. Lines Draw a line. Write a line. There. Stay in line, hold the line, a glance Between the lines is fine but don’t Turn corners, cross, cut in, go over Or out, between two points of no Return’s a line of flight, between Two points of view’s a line of vision. But a line of thought […]...
2. You'll know Her by Her Foot You’ll know Her by Her Foot The smallest Gamboge Hand With Fingers where the Toes should be Would more affront the Sand Than this Quaint Creature’s Boot Adjusted by a Stern Without a Button I could vouch Unto a Velvet Limb You’ll know Her by Her Vest Tight fitting Orange Brown Inside a Jacket duller […]...
3. Three Ha'Pence a Foot I’ll tell you an old-fashioned story That Grandfather used to relate, Of a joiner and building contractor; ‘Is name, it were Sam Oglethwaite. In a shop on the banks of the Irwell, Old Sam used to follow ‘is trade, In a place you’ll have ‘eard of, called Bury; You know, where black puddings is made. […]...
4. Two Truths Darling,’ he said, ‘I never meant To hurt you;’ and his eyes were wet. ‘I would not hurt you for the world: Am I to blame if I forget?’ ‘Forgive my selfish tears!’ she cried, ‘Forgive! I knew that it was not Because you meant to hurt me, sweet- I knew it was that you […]...
5. Four-Foot Shelf ‘Come, see,’ said he, ‘my four-foot shelf, A forty volume row; And every one I wrote myself, But that, of course, you know.’ I stared, I searched a memory dim, For though an author too, Somehow I’d never heard of him, None of his books I knew. Said I: ‘I’d like to borrow one, Fond […]...
6. The White Man's Foot In his lodge beside a river, Close beside a frozen river, Sat an old man, sad and lonely. White his hair was as a snow-drift; Dull and low his fire was burning, And the old man shook and trembled, Folded in his Waubewyon, In his tattered white-skin-wrapper, Hearing nothing but the tempest As it roared […]...
7. The shakes now pay attention (said the teacher) And look up here The children looked up This is william shakespeare Four centuries up On a pedestal Was shakespeare’s head He was what we call A great man The children got sore necks Looking up And some began to look down No no You mustn’t look down (said […]...
8. Non Dolet It does not hurt. She looked along the knife Smiling, and watched the thick drops mix and run Down the sheer blade; not that which had been done Could hurt the sweet sense of the Roman wife, But that which was to do yet ere the strife Could end for each for ever, and the […]...
9. Like Mighty Foot Lights burned the Red Like Mighty Foot Lights burned the Red At Bases of the Trees The far Theatricals of Day Exhibiting to These ‘Twas Universe that did applaud While Chiefest of the Crowd Enabled by his Royal Dress Myself distinguished God...
10. Sonnet 104 – A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece A spot of poontang on a five-foot piece, Diminutive, but room enough. . like clay To finger eager on some torrid day. . Who’d throw her black hair back, and hang, and tease. Never, not once in all one’s horny lease To’have had a demi-lay, a pretty, gay, Snug, slim and supple-breasted girl for play. […]...
11. 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 […]...
12. Advice I must do as you do? Your way I own Is a very good way, and still, There are sometimes two straight roads to a town, One over, one under the hill. You are treading the safe and the well-worn way, That the prudent choose each time; And you think me reckless and rash to-day […]...
13. Choose your obsessions Choose your obsessions For they are unworthy possessions Trojan horses They bind you Without you realizing They hinder your natural design And make you completely blind Choose your obsessions For they are unworthy possessions; They are the weeds, You; yourself choose to grow. Some seeds are rotten.. Still you keep them, them, you don’t throw. […]...
14. My True Love Hath My Heart, And I Have His My true-love hath my heart, and I have his, By just exchange, one for the other giv’n. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss; There never was a better bargain driv’n. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves my […]...
15. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
16. Owen Aherne And His Dancers I A strange thing surely that my Heart, when love had come unsought Upon the Norman upland or in that poplar shade, Should find no burden but itself and yet should be worn out. It could not bear that burden and therefore it went mad. The south wind brought it longing, and the east wind […]...
17. 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 […]...
18. Regret It’s not for laws I’ve broken That bitter tears I’ve wept, But solemn vows I’ve spoken And promises unkept; It’s not for sins committed My heart is full of rue, But gentle acts omitted, Kind deeds I did not do. I have outlived the blindness, The selfishness of youth; The canker of unkindness, The cruelty […]...
19. Dream Song 117: Disturbed, when Henry's love returned with a hubby Disturbed, when Henry’s love returned with a hubby, — I see that, Henry, I don’t put that down, — He thought he had to think Or with a razor like a skating-rink Have more to say or more to them downtown In the Christmas season, like a hobby. Their letters will, released, shake the mapped […]...
20. The Lesson Chaos ruled OK in the classroom As bravely the teacher walked in The nooligans ignored him Hid voice was lost in the din “The theme for today is violence And homework will be set I’m going to teach you a lesson One that you’ll never forget” He picked on a boy who was shouting And […]...
21. 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 […]...
22. We Never Said Farewell WE never said farewell, nor even looked Our last upon each other, for no sign Was made when we the linkèd chain unhooked And broke the level line. And here we dwell together, side by side, Our places fixed for life upon the chart. Two islands that the roaring seas divide Are not more far […]...
23. John Horace Burleson I won the prize essay at school Here in the village, And published a novel before I was twenty-five. I went to the city for themes and to enrich my art; There married the banker’s daughter, And later became president of the bank- Always looking forward to some leisure To write an epic novel of […]...
24. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
25. Farewell to Secretary Shu-yun at the Hsieh Tiao Villa in Hsuan-Chou Since yesterday had throw me and bolt, Today has hurt my heart even more. The autumn wildgeese have a long wing for escort As I face them from this villa, drinking my wine. The bones of great writers are your brushes, in the school of heaven, And I am Lesser Hsieh growing up by your […]...
26. Prelude They say that rhyme and rhythm are Outmoded now. I do not know, for I am far From high of brow. But if the twain you take away, Since basely bred, Proud Poetry, I dare to say, Would scarce be read. With humble heart I thus define My rôle in rhyme: Oh may I never […]...
27. The Gardener XXI: Why Did He Choose Why did he choose to come to my Door, the wandering youth, when the Day dawned? As I come in and out I pass by him Every time, and my eyes are caught by His face. I know not if I should speak to him Or keep silent. Why did he choose to Come to […]...
28. Teaching XVIII Then said a teacher, “Speak to us of Teaching.” And he said: No man can reveal to you aught but that which already lies half asleep in the dawning of our knowledge. The teacher who walks in the shadow of the temple, among his followers, gives not of his wisdom but rather of his faith […]...
29. The Washing and Dressing Ah! why will my dear little girl be so cross, And cry, and look sulky, and pout? To lose her sweet smile is a terrible loss, I can’t even kiss her without. You say you don’t like to be wash’d and be dress’d, But would you not wish to be clean? Come, drive that long […]...
30. THE SHOWER OF BLOSSOMS Love in a shower of blossoms came Down, and half drown’d me with the same; The blooms that fell were white and red; But with such sweets commingled, As whether (this) I cannot tell, My sight was pleased more, or my smell; But true it was, as I roll’d there, Without a thought of hurt […]...
31. Sandpipers Sandland where the salt water kills the sweet potatoes. Homes for sandpipers-the script of their feet is on the sea shingles-they write in the morning, it is gone at noon-they write at noon, it is gone at night. Pity the land, the sea, the ten mile flats, pity anything but the sandpiper’s wire legs and […]...
32. The Missal Makers To visit the Escurial We took a motor bus, And there a guide mercurial Took charge of us. He showed us through room after room, And talked hour after hour, Of place, crypt and royal tomb, Of pomp and power. But in bewilderment of grace What pleased me most of all Were ancient missals proud […]...
33. Sonnet 76: Why is my verse so barren of new pride? Why is my verse so barren of new pride? So far from variation or quick change? Why with the time do I not glance aside To new-found methods, and to compounds strange? Why write I still all one, ever the same, And keep invention in a noted weed, That every word doth almost tell my […]...
34. 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 […]...
35. TO WILLIAM E. CHANNING The pages of thy book I read, And as I closed each one, My heart, responding, ever said, “Servant of God! well done!” Well done! Thy words are great and bold; At times they seem to me, Like Luther’s, in the days of old, Half-battles for the free. Go on, until this land revokes The […]...
36. Song from Arcadia My true love hath my heart, and I have his, By Just Exchange, one for the other given. I hold his dear, and mine he cannot miss, There never was a better bargain driven. His heart in me keeps me and him in one, My heart in him his thoughts and senses guides; He loves […]...
37. Franklin Hyde Who caroused in the Dirt and was corrected by His Uncle. His Uncle came upon Franklin Hyde Carousing in the Dirt. He Shook him hard from Side to Side And Hit him till it Hurt, Exclaiming, with a Final Thud, “Take that! Abandoned boy! For Playing with Disgusting Mud As though it were a Toy!” […]...
38. The Secret Two girls discover The secret of life In a sudden line of Poetry. I who don’t know the Secret wrote The line. They Told me (through a third person) They had found it But not what it was Not even What line it was. No doubt By now, more than a week Later, they have […]...
39. TO SIR CLIPSBY CREW Since to the country first I came, I have lost my former flame; And, methinks, I not inherit, As I did, my ravish’d spirit. If I write a verse or two, ‘Tis with very much ado; In regard I want that wine Which should conjure up a line. Yet, though now of Muse bereft, I […]...
40. To The Memory Of My Beloved, The Author, Mr William Shakespeare, And What He Hath Left Us To draw no envy, Shakespeare, on thy name Am I thus ample to thy book and fame; While I confess thy writings to be such As neither Man nor Muse can praise too much. ‘Tis true, and all men’s suffrage. But these ways Were not the paths I meant unto thy praise; For silliest ignorance […]...