Aurora Prone

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1. Detroit Grease Shop Poem Four bright steel crosses, Universal joints, plucked Out of the burlap sack “the heart of the drive train,” The book says. Stars On Lemon’s wooden palm, Stars that must be capped, Rolled, and anointed, That have their orders And their commands as he Has his. Under the blue Hesitant light another day At Automotive In […]...
2. Aurora Leigh (excerpts) [Book 1] I am like, They tell me, my dear father. Broader brows Howbeit, upon a slenderer undergrowth Of delicate features, paler, near as grave ; But then my mother’s smile breaks up the whole, And makes it better sometimes than itself. So, nine full years, our days were hid with God Among his mountains […]...
3. Ode To a Lemon Out of lemon flowers Loosed On the moonlight, love’s Lashed and insatiable Essences, Sodden with fragrance, The lemon tree’s yellow Emerges, The lemons Move down From the tree’s planetarium Delicate merchandise! The harbors are big with it- Bazaars For the light and the Barbarous gold. We open The halves Of a miracle, And a clotting […]...
4. Ode To The Lemon From blossoms Released By the moonlight, From an Aroma of exasperated Love, Steeped in fragrance, Yellowness Drifted from the lemon tree, And from its plantarium Lemons descended to the earth. Tender yield! The coasts, The markets glowed With light, with Unrefined gold; We opened Two halves Of a miracle, Congealed acid Trickled From the hemispheres […]...
5. Song from Aella O SING unto my roundelay, O drop the briny tear with me; Dance no more at holyday, Like a running river be: My love is dead, Gone to his death-bed All under the willow-tree. Black his cryne as the winter night, White his rode as the summer snow, Red his face as the morning light, […]...
6. Moonlit Night Tonight at Fu-chou, this moon she watches Alone in our room. And my little, far-off Children, too young to understand what keeps me Away, or even remember Chang’an. By now, Her hair will be mist-scented, her jade-white Arms chilled in its clear light. When Will it find us together again, drapes drawn Open, light traced […]...
7. Momma Welfare Roll Her arms semaphore fat triangles, Pudgy HANDS bunched on layered hips Where bones idle under years of fatback And lima beans. Her jowls shiver in accusation Of crimes cliched by Repetition. Her children, strangers To childhood’s TOYS, play Best the games of darkened doorways, Rooftop tag, and know the slick feel of Other people’s property. […]...
8. Part Of Speech …and when “the future” is uttered, swarms of mice Rush out of the Russian language and gnaw a piece Of ripened memory which is twice As hole-ridden as real cheese. After all these years it hardly matters who Or what stands in the corner, hidden by heavy drapes, And your mind resounds not with a […]...
9. Parting at a Wine-shop in Nan-king A wind, bringing willow-cotton, sweetens the shop, And a girl from Wu, pouring wine, urges me to share it. With my comrades of the city who are here to see me off; And as each of them drains his cup, I say to him in parting, Oh, go and ask this river running to the […]...
10. St. Alexis, Patron of Beggars We who beg for bread as we daily tread Country lane and city street, Let us kneel and pray on the broad highway To the saint with the vagrant feet. Our altar light is a buttercup bright, And our shrine is a bank of sod, But still we share St. Alexis’ care, The Vagabond of […]...
11. Summer Remember the days of our first happiness, How strong we were, how dazed by passion, Lying all day, then all night in the narrow bed, Sleeping there, eating there too: it was summer, It seemed everything had ripened At once. And so hot we lay completely uncovered. Sometimes the wind rose; a willow brushed the […]...
12. Atavism I was always afraid of Somes’s Pond: Not the little pond, by which the willow stands, Where laughing boys catch alewives in their hands In brown, bright shallows; but the one beyond. There, where the frost makes all the birches burn Yellow as cow-lilies, and the pale sky shines Like a polished shell between black […]...
13. Painting And Sculpture The sinful painter drapes his goddess warm, Because she still is naked, being drest; The godlike sculptor will not so deform Beauty, which bones and flesh enough invest....
14. A Study (A Soul) She stands as pale as Parian statues stand; Like Cleopatra when she turned at bay, And felt her strength above the Roman sway, And felt the aspic writhing in her hand. Her face is steadfast toward the shadowy land, For dim beyond it looms the light of day; Her feet are steadfast; all the arduous […]...
15. The beans were exciting I tried cooking in my new Quicksilver jacket, just An affectation I assure you – no, not the coat Or the cooking but me in the wearing of it, A form of warped appreciation, and when I think Of it the gag was truly fitting; it wasn’t new, A barely used waterproof surfers’ jacket bought […]...
16. The Willow On sweet young earth where the myrtle presses, Long we lay, when the May was new; The willow was winding the moon in her tresses, The bud of the rose was told with dew. And now on the brittle ground I’m lying, Screaming to die with the dead year’s dead; The stem of the rose […]...
17. Hohenlinden 1 On Linden, when the sun was low, 2 All bloodless lay the untrodden snow, 3 And dark as winter was the flow 4 Of Iser, rolling rapidly. 5 But Linden saw another sight 6 When the drum beat at dead of night, 7 Commanding fires of death to light 8 The darkness of her […]...
18. Retired I used to sing, when I was young, The joy of idleness; But now I’m grey I hold my tongue, For frankly I confess If I had not some job to do I would be bored to death; So I must toil until I’m through With this asthmatic breath. Where others slothfully would brood beg […]...
19. The Aboriginal Cricketer Mid-9th century Good-looking young man In your Crimean shirt With your willow shield Up, as if to face spears, You’re inside their men’s Law, One church they do obey; They’ll remember you were here. Keep fending off their casts. Don’t come out of character. Like you they suspect Idiosyncrasy of witchcraft. Above all, don’t get […]...
20. Lullaby My mother’s an expert in one thing: Sending people she loves into the other world. The little ones, the babies these She rocks, whispering or singing quietly. I can’t say What she did for my father; Whatever it was, I’m sure it was right. It’s the same thing, really, preparing a person For sleep, for […]...
21. The Chord Courageous lair “might prevail” Waking up to her your “yellow coal” Steals a its way Harm’s imbrogliatic murmur To concatenate Has been “said” A mortal habitation or cut in air That air leaks through Here too *** Tricked again out of Hope’s chord The oscillatory hum in the head, or Amygdala Continual reaction in the […]...
22. Willow And I grew up in patterned tranquillity, In the cool nursery of the young century. And the voice of man was not dear to me, But the voice of the wind I could understand. But best of all the silver willow. And obligingly, it lived With me all my life; it’s weeping branches Fanned my […]...
23. Afternoon Rain in State Street Cross-hatchings of rain against grey walls, Slant lines of black rain In front of the up and down, wet stone sides of buildings. Below, Greasy, shiny, black, horizontal, The street. And over it, umbrellas, Black polished dots Struck to white An instant, Stream in two flat lines Slipping past each other with the smoothness of […]...
24. Willow Poem It is a willow when summer is over, A willow by the river From which no leaf has fallen nor Bitten by the sun Turned orange or crimson. The leaves cling and grow paler, Swing and grow paler Over the swirling waters of the river As if loth to let go, They are so cool, […]...
25. Stanzas Written In Dejection Near Naples The sun is warm, the sky is clear, The waves are dancing fast and bright, Blue isles and snowy mountains wear The purple noon’s transparent might, The breath of the moist air is light, Around its unexpanded buds; Like many a voice of one delight, The winds’, the birds’, the ocean floods’, The City’s voice […]...
26. The Whistling Girl Back of my back, they talk of me, Gabble and honk and hiss; Let them batten, and let them be- Me, I can sing them this: “Better to shiver beneath the stars, Head on a faithless breast, Than peer at the night through rusted bars, And share an irksome rest. “Better to see the dawn […]...
27. We like March We like March. His Shoes are Purple He is new and high Makes he Mud for Dog and Peddler. Makes he Forests dry. Knows the Adder Tongue his coming And presents her Spot Stands the Sun so close and mighty That our Minds are hot. News is he of all the others Bold it were […]...
28. Stars Wheel in Purple Stars wheel in purple, yours is not so rare As Hesperus, nor yet so great a star As bright Aldeboran or Sirius, Nor yet the stained and brilliant one of War; Stars turn in purple, glorious to the sight; Yours is not gracious as the Pleiads are Nor as Orion’s sapphires, luminous; Yet disenchanted, cold, […]...
29. One Sister have I in our house One Sister have I in our house, And one, a hedge away. There’s only one recorded, But both belong to me. One came the road that I came And wore my last year’s gown The other, as a bird her nest, Builded our hearts among. She did not sing as we did It was a […]...
30. Wisteria The first purple wisteria I recall from boyhood hung On a wire outside the windows Of the breakfast room next door At the home of Steve Pisaris. I loved his tall, skinny daughter, Or so I thought, and I would wait Beside the back door, prostrate, Begging to be taken in. Perhaps It was only […]...
31. Afternoon When I am old, and comforted, And done with this desire, With Memory to share my bed And Peace to share my fire, I’ll comb my hair in scalloped bands Beneath my laundered cap, And watch my cool and fragile hands Lie light upon my lap. And I will have a sprigged gown With lace […]...
32. As One Who Having Wandered All Night Long AS one who having wandered all night long In a perplexed forest, comes at length In the first hours, about the matin song, And when the sun uprises in his strength, To the fringed margin of the wood, and sees, Gazing afar before him, many a mile Of falling country, many fields and trees, And […]...
33. Winter Promises Tomatoes rosy as perfect baby’s buttocks, Eggplants glossy as waxed fenders, Purple neon flawless glistening Peppers, pole beans fecund and fast Growing as Jack’s Viagra-sped stalk, Big as truck tire zinnias that mildew Will never wilt, roses weighing down A bush never touched by black spot, Brave little fruit trees shouldering up Their spotless ornaments […]...
34. Once Hungry and cold, I stood in a doorway On Delancey Street in 1946 As the rain came down. The worst part is this Is not from a bad movie. I’d read Dos Passos’ USA and thought, “Before the night ends My life will change.” A stranger would stop To ask for my help, a single […]...
35. The Dark Forest Dark is the forest and deep, and overhead Hang stars like seeds of light In vain, though not since they were sown was bred Anything more bright. And evermore mighty multitudes ride About, nor enter in; Of the other multitudes that dwell inside Never yet was one seen. The forest foxglove is purple, the marguerite […]...
36. The Ballad Of The Harp-Weaver “Son,” said my mother, When I was knee-high, “you’ve need of clothes to cover you, And not a rag have I. “There’s nothing in the house To make a boy breeches, Nor shears to cut a cloth with, Nor thread to take stitches. “There’s nothing in the house But a loaf-end of rye, And a […]...
37. The Willow Who shall sing a simple ditty about the Willow, Dainty-fine and delicate as any bending spray That dandles high the dainty bird that flutters there to trill a Tremulously tender song of greeting to the May. Bravest, too, of all the trees! none to match your daring, First of greens to greet the Spring and […]...
38. The King of Yellow Butterflies (A Poem Game.) The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, The King of Yellow Butterflies, Now orders forth his men. He says “The time is almost here When violets bloom again.” Adown the road the fickle rout Goes flashing proud and bold, A down the road the fickle rout Goes flashing proud […]...
39. Aisling I was making my way home late one night This summer, when I staggered Into a snow drift. Her eyes spoke of a sloe-year, Her mouth a year of haws. Was she Aurora, or the goddess Flora, Artemidora, or Venus bright, Or Anorexia, who left A lemon stain on my flannel sheet? It’s all much […]...
40. The Dragon-Fly Life (priest and poet say) is but a dream; I wish no happier one than to be laid Beneath a cool syringa’s scented shade, Or wavy willow, by the running stream, Brimful of moral, where the dragon-fly, Wanders as careless and content as I. Thanks for this fancy, insect king, Of purple crest and filmy […]...