What we see we know somewhat

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1. Whats The Use Of A Title? They dont make it The beautiful die in flame – Sucide pills, rat poison, rope what – Ever… They rip their arms off, Throw themselves out of windows, They pull their eyes out of the sockets, Reject love Reject hate Reject, reject. They do’nt make it The beautiful can’t endure, They are butterflies They are […]...
2. The joy that has no stem no core The joy that has no stem no core, Nor seed that we can sow, Is edible to longing. But ablative to show. By fundamental palates Those products are preferred Impregnable to transit And patented by pod....
3. The Pick I watched him swinging the pick in the sun, Breaking the concrete steps into chunks of rock, And the rocks into dust, And the dust into earth again. I must have sat for a very long time on the split rail fence, Just watching him. My father’s body glistened with sweat, His arms flew like […]...
4. You're right "the way is narrow&quot You’re right “the way is narrow” And “difficult the Gate” And “few there be” Correct again That “enter in thereat” ‘Tis Costly So are purples! ‘Tis just the price of Breath With but the “Discount” of the Grave Termed by the Brokers “Death”! And after that there’s Heaven The Good Man’s “Dividend” And Bad Men […]...
5. May 24, 1980 I have braved, for want of wild beasts, steel cages, Carved my term and nickname on bunks and rafters, Lived by the sea, flashed aces in an oasis, Dined with the-devil-knows-whom, in tails, on truffles. From the height of a glacier I beheld half a world, the earthly width. Twice have drowned, thrice let knives […]...
6. 303. Song-The Gowden Locks of Anna YESTREEN I had a pint o’ wine, A place where body saw na; Yestreen lay on this breast o’ mine The gowden locks of Anna. The hungry Jew in wilderness, Rejoicing o’er his manna, Was naething to my hinny bliss Upon the lips of Anna. Ye monarchs, take the East and West Frae Indus to […]...
7. Le Gout du Néant Morne esprit, autrefois amoureux de la lutte, L’Espoir, dont l’éperon attisait ton ardeur, Ne veut plus t’enfourcher! Couche-toi sans pudeur, Vieux cheval dont le pied à chaque obstacle bute. Résigne-toi, mon coeur; dors ton sommeil de brute. Esprit vaincu, fourbu! Pour toi, vieux maraudeur, L’amour n’a plus de gout, non plus que la dispute; Adieu […]...
8. The Box Once upon a time, in the land of Hush-A-Bye, Around about the wondrous days of yore, They came across a kind of box Bound up with chains and locked with locks And labeled “Kindly do not touch; it’s war.” A decree was issued round about, and all with a flourish and a shout And a […]...
9. Why I Voted the Socialist Ticket I am unjust, but I can strive for justice. My life’s unkind, but I can vote for kindness. I, the unloving, say life should be lovely. I, that am blind, cry out against my blindness. Man is a curious brute – he pets his fancies – Fighting mankind, to win sweet luxury. So he will […]...
10. Through what transports of Patience Through what transports of Patience I reached the stolid Bliss To breathe my Blank without thee Attest me this and this By that bleak exultation I won as near as this Thy privilege of dying Abbreviate me this...
11. Cotton Song Come, brother, come. Lets lift it; Come now, hewit! roll away! Shackles fall upon the Judgment Day But lets not wait for it. God’s body’s got a soul, Bodies like to roll the soul, Cant blame God if we dont roll, Come, brother, roll, roll! Cotton bales are the fleecy way, Weary sinner’s bare feet […]...
12. Dream Song 10: There were strange gatherings. A vote would come There were strange gatherings. A vote would come That would be no vote. There would come a rope. Yes. There would come a rope. Men have their hats down. “Dancing in the Dark” Will see him up, car-radio-wise. So many, some Won’t find a rut to park. It is in the occasions, that—not the fathomless […]...
13. 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...
14. 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...
15. 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 […]...
16. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
17. September Song born 19.6.32 – deported 24.9.42 Undesirable you may have been, untouchable You were not. Not forgotten Or passed over at the proper time. As estimated, you died. Things marched, Sufficient, to that end. Just so much Zyklon and leather, patented Terror, so many routine cries. (I have made An elegy for myself it Is true) […]...
18. 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!...
19. Gone Down To the voters of Glen Innes ’twas O’Sullivan that went, To secure the country vote for Mister Hay. So he told ’em what he’d borrowed, and he told ’em what he’d spent, Though extravagance had blown it all away. Said he, “Vote for Hay, my hearties, and wherever we may roam We will borrow, undismayed […]...
20. 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...
21. 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 […]...
22. 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 […]...
23. My Reward for Being, was This My Reward for Being, was This. My premium My Bliss An Admiralty, less A Sceptre penniless And Realms just Dross When Thrones accost my Hands With “Me, Miss, Me” I’ll unroll Thee Dominions dowerless beside this Grace Election Vote The Ballots of Eternity, will show just that....
24. LOVE DISLIKES NOTHING Whatsoever thing I see, Rich or poor although it be, ‘Tis a mistress unto me. Be my girl or fair or brown, Does she smile, or does she frown; Still I write a sweet-heart down. Be she rough, or smooth of skin; When I touch, I then begin For to let affection in. Be she […]...
25. A Door just opened on a street A Door just opened on a street I lost was passing by An instant’s Width of Warmth disclosed And Wealth and Company. The Door as instant shut And I I lost was passing by Lost doubly but by contrast most Informing misery...
26. For Jane: With All The Love I Had, Which Was Not Enough I pick up the skirt, I pick up the sparkling beads In black, This thing that moved once Around flesh, And I call God a liar, I say anything that moved Like that Or knew My name Could never die In the common verity of dying, And I pick Up her lovely Dress, All her […]...
27. Women's Suffrage Fellow men! why should the lords try to despise And prohibit women from having the benefit of the parliamentary Franchise? When they pay the same taxes as you and me, I consider they ought to have the same liberty. And I consider if they are not allowed the same liberty, From taxation every one of […]...
28. When the prophet, a complacent fat man When the prophet, a complacent fat man, Arrived at the mountain-top, He cried: “Woe to my knowledge! I intended to see good white lands And bad black lands, But the scene is grey.”...
29. Last Invocation, The 1 AT the last, tenderly, From the walls of the powerful, fortress’d house, From the clasp of the knitted locks-from the keep of the well-closed doors, Let me be wafted. 2 Let me glide noiselessly forth; With the key of softness unlock the locks-with a whisper, Set ope the doors, O Soul! 3 Tenderly! be […]...
30. 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 […]...
31. It Is March It is March and black dust falls out of the books Soon I will be gone The tall spirit who lodged here has Left already On the avenues the colorless thread lies under Old prices When you look back there is always the past Even when it has vanished But when you look forward With […]...
32. Dreamers Soldiers are citizens of death’s gray land, Drawing no dividend from time’s to-morrows. In the great hour of destiny they stand, Each with his feuds, and jealousies, and sorrows. Soldiers are sworn to action; they must win Some flaming, fatal climax with their lives. Soldiers are dreamers; when the guns begin They think of firelit […]...
33. Fringed Gentians Near where I live there is a lake As blue as blue can be, winds make It dance as they go blowing by. I think it curtseys to the sky. It’s just a lake of lovely flowers And my Mamma says they are ours; But they are not like those we grow To be our […]...
34. Telling You All Telling you all would take too long. Besides, we read in the Bible How the good is harmful And how misfortune is good. Let’s invite something new By unifying our silences; If, then and there, we advance, We’ll know it soon enough. And yet towards evening, When his memory is persistent, One belated curiousity Stops […]...
35. 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....
36. 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 […]...
37. Congratulations Congratulations, you’ve succeeded, You’ve acknowledged 60% of you at least Are the incredibly dense and mindless people Needed to make sense of incomprehensible Avoidance strategies on recycling water. You may have missed the point, the vote Was not to see which political policy would Prevail; tragically it was a statement to our Nation On re-use […]...
38. I live with Him I see His face I live with Him I see His face I go no more away For Visitor or Sundown Death’s single privacy The Only One forestalling Mine And that by Right that He Presents a Claim invisible No wedlock granted Me I live with Him I hear His Voice I stand alive Today To witness to the […]...
39. April 21 I’m a very average person, And I think most people are. I vote with the common man. I have two kids, a boy and a girl. Last Sunday I played golf with the boss. Hey, it beats working. I’m his wife. I may be brainless but I’m her husband. I played golf with her Last […]...
40. Said The Poet To The Analyst My business is words. Words are like labels, Or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; As if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, Unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget who one words is able […]...