Letter to an Archaeologist

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1. Anne Pennington Until her last breath she enlarges Her Oxford house Built in Slavonic Vowels and consonants She polishes the corner-stones Until their Anglo-Saxon shine Begins to sing Her death is like a short breath-stop Under the distant limetrees of her friends...
2. Cosmopolitan Greetings To Struga Festival Golden Wreath Laureates & International Bards 1986 Stand up against governments, against God. Stay irresponsible. Say only what we know & imagine. Absolutes are coercion. Change is absolute. Ordinary mind includes eternal perceptions. Observe what’s vivid. Notice what you notice. Catch yourself thinking. Vividness is self-selecting. If we don’t show anyone, we’re […]...
3. 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 […]...
4. The First Dream The Wind is ghosting around the house tonight And as I lean against the door of sleep I begin to think about the first person to dream, How quiet he must have seemed the next morning As the others stood around the fire Draped in the skins of animals Talking to each other only in […]...
5. Letter to My Lover After Seven Years You gave me the child That seamed my belly & stitched up my life. You gave me: one book of love poems, Five years of peace & two of pain. You gave me darkness, light, laughter & the certain knowledge That we someday die. You gave me seven years During which the cells of my […]...
6. A Letter to a Live Poet Sir, since the last Elizabethan died, Or, rather, that more Paradisal muse, Blind with much light, passed to the light more glorious Or deeper blindness, no man’s hand, as thine, Has, on the world’s most noblest chord of song, Struck certain magic strains. Ears satiate With the clamorous, timorous whisperings of to-day, Thrilled to perceive […]...
7. A Letter I have been wondering What you are thinking about, and by now suppose It is certainly not me. But the crocus is up, and the lark, and the blundering Blood knows what it knows. It talks to itself all night, like a sliding moonlit sea. Of course, it is talking of you. At dawn, where […]...
8. To Make A Dadist Poem Take a newspaper. Take some scissors. Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem. Cut out the article. Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag. Shake gently. Next take out each cutting one after the other. […]...
9. Letter Home New Orleans, November 1910 Four weeks have passed since I left, and still I must write to you of no work. I’ve worn down The soles and walked through the tightness Of my new shoes calling upon the merchants, Their offices bustling. All the while I kept thinking My plain English and good writing would […]...
10. Lion & Honeycomb He didn’t want to do it with skill, He’d had enough of skill. If he never saw Another villanelle, it would be too soon; And the same went for sonnets. If it had been Hard work learning to rime, it would be much Harder learning not to. The time came He had to ask himself, […]...
11. The Vixen Among the taller wood with ivy hung, The old fox plays and dances round her young. She snuffs and barks if any passes by And swings her tail and turns prepared to fly. The horseman hurries by, she bolts to see, And turns agen, from danger never free. If any stands she runs among the […]...
12. 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 […]...
13. A Letter From Li Po Fanfare of northwest wind, a bluejay wind Announces autumn, and the equinox Rolls back blue bays to a far afternoon. Somewhere beyond the Gorge Li Po is gone, Looking for friendship or an old love’s sleeve Or writing letters to his children, lost, And to his children’s children, and to us. What was his light? […]...
14. The Letter What is she writing? Watch her now, How fast her fingers move! How eagerly her youthful brow Is bent in thought above! Her long curls, drooping, shade the light, She puts them quick aside, Nor knows, that band of crystals bright, Her hasty touch untied. It slips adown her silken dress, Falls glittering at her […]...
15. Letter To Kizer From Seattle Dear Condor: Much thanks for that telephonic support From North Carolina when I suddenly went ape In the Iowa tulips. Lord, but I’m ashamed. I was afraid, it seemed, according to the doctor Of impending success, winning some poetry prizes Or getting a wet kiss. The more popular I got, The softer the soft cry […]...
16. Freedom XIV And an orator said, “Speak to us of Freedom.” And he answered: At the city gate and by your fireside I have seen you prostrate yourself and worship your own freedom, Even as slaves humble themselves before a tyrant and praise him though he slays them. Ay, in the grove of the temple and in […]...
17. Not What Was Meant When the Academy of Arts demanded freedom Of artistic expression from narrow-minded bureaucrats There was a howl and a clamour in its immediate vicinity But roaring above everything Came a deafening thunder of applause From beyond the Sector boundary. Freedom! it roared. Freedom for the artists! Freedom all round! Freedom for all! Freedom for the […]...
18. 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 […]...
19. The House Of Dust: Part 03: 10: Letter From time to time, lifting his eyes, he sees The soft blue starlight through the one small window, The moon above black trees, and clouds, and Venus,- And turns to write. . . The clock, behind ticks softly. It is so long, indeed, since I have written,- Two years, almost, your last is turning yellow,- […]...
20. A Letter From the Trenches to a School Friend I have not brought my Odyssey With me here across the sea; But you’ll remember, when I say How, when they went down Sparta way, To sandy Sparta, long ere dawn Horses were harnessed, rations drawn, Equipment polished sparkling bright, And breakfasts swallowed (as the white Of eastern heavens turned to gold) – The dogs […]...
21. A Walgett Episode The sun strikes down with a blinding glare; The skies are blue and the plains are wide, The saltbush plains that are burnt and bare By Walgett out on the Barwon side The Barwon River that wanders down In a leisurely manner by Walgett Town. There came a stranger a “Cockatoo” The word means farmer, […]...
22. To Say Before Going To Sleep I would like to sing someone to sleep, Have someone to sit by and be with. I would like to cradle you and softly sing, Be your companion while you sleep or wake. I would like to be the only person In the house who knew: the night outside was cold. And would like to […]...
23. Freedom What freeman knoweth freedom? Never he Whose father’s father through long lives have reigned O’er kingdoms which mere heritage attained. Though from his youth to age he roam as free As winds, he dreams not freedom’s ecstacy. But he whose birth was in a nation chained For centuries; where every breath was drained From breasts […]...
24. Her Letter “I’m taking pen in hand this night, and hard it is for me; My poor old fingers tremble so, my hand is stiff and slow, And even with my glasses on I’m troubled sore to see. . . . You’d little know your mother, boy; you’d little, little know. You mind how brisk and bright […]...
25. FIRST LETTER We crossed to the other side, the burgee of the boat Ceased flapping and lagged behind like a dead wing. The visible air seemed neither cold nor hot, The violet clouds flew past us, scurrying. The plain was dark, and the mountain was tall, And the echo swallowed the boatman’s call. The atmosphere was dense […]...
26. Letter You can see it already: chalks and ochers; Country crossed with a thousand furrow-lines; Ground-level rooftops hidden by the shrubbery; Sporadic haystacks standing on the grass; Smoky old rooftops tarnishing the landscape; A river (not Cayster or Ganges, though: A feeble Norman salt-infested watercourse); On the right, to the north, bizarre terrain All angular you’d […]...
27. Letter To N. Y For Louise Crane In your next letter I wish you’d say Where you are going and what you are doing; How are the plays and after the plays What other pleasures you’re pursuing: Taking cabs in the middle of the night, Driving as if to save your soul Where the road gose round and round […]...
28. A Letter a penny for your thoughts my dear how are you Got things to tell got to stand naked before you Disintegration now depicts my inner me were you Here you might see no difference within but you I’m sure don’t have to be here to find out how yours Is different now simply because everything […]...
29. Letter S THE RIVER is gold under a sunset of Illinois. It is a molten gold someone pours and changes. A woman mixing a wedding cake of butter and eggs Knows what the sunset is pouring on the river here. The river twists in a letter S. A gold S now speaks to the Illinois sky....
30. A Familiar Letter YES, write, if you want to, there’s nothing like trying; Who knows what a treasure your casket may hold? I’ll show you that rhyming’s as easy as lying, If you’ll listen to me while the art I unfold. Here’s a book full of words; one can choose as he fancies, As a painter his tint, […]...
31. LETTER FROM HAWORTH Poems do not always satisfy the soul, The feel of cobbles underfoot is at this moment more Than all of Shakespeare’s sonnets, the unending vistas Of the moor, an infinity of purity that excels even Mallarmй. I sit on the cracked steps to the church, sipping tea With my eye on the Black Bull where […]...
32. 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 […]...
33. A Letter To My Aunt A Letter To My Aunt Discussing The Correct Approach To Modern Poetry To you, my aunt, who would explore The literary Chankley Bore, The paths are hard, for you are not A literary Hottentot But just a kind and cultured dame Who knows not Eliot (to her shame). Fie on you, aunt, that you should […]...
34. From A Letter From Lesbia … So, praise the gods, Catullus is away! And let me tend you this advice, my dear: Take any lover that you will, or may, Except a poet. All of them are queer. It’s just the same – a quarrel or a kiss Is but a tune to play upon his pipe. He’s always hymning […]...
35. A Letter from Home She sends me news of blue jays, frost, Of stars and now the harvest moon That rides above the stricken hills. Lightly, she speaks of cold, of pain, And lists what is already lost. Here where my life seems hard and slow, I read of glowing melons piled Beside the door, and baskets filled With […]...
36. A Letter Home (To Robert Graves) I Here I’m sitting in the gloom Of my quiet attic room. France goes rolling all around, Fledged with forest May has crowned. And I puff my pipe, calm-hearted, Thinking how the fighting started, Wondering when we’ll ever end it, Back to hell with Kaiser sent it, Gag the noise, pack up […]...
37. This is my letter to the World This is my letter to the World That never wrote to Me The simple News that Nature told With tender Majesty Her Message is committed To Hands I cannot see For love of Her Sweet countrymen Judge tenderly of Me...
38. Belshazzar had a Letter Belshazzar had a Letter He never had but one Belshazzar’s Correspondent Concluded and begun In that immortal Copy The Conscience of us all Can read without its Glasses On Revelation’s Wall...
39. Going to Him! Happy letter! Going to Him! Happy letter! Tell Him Tell Him the page I didn’t write Tell Him I only said the Syntax And left the Verb and the pronoun out Tell Him just how the fingers hurried Then how they waded slow slow And then you wished you had eyes in your pages So you could […]...
40. By a flower By a letter By a flower By a letter By a nimble love If I weld the Rivet faster Final fast above Never mind my breathless Anvil! Never mind Repose! Never mind the sooty faces Tugging at the Forge!...