The Journey

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1. Snow & Ice ice sheets sweep this slick mirrored dark place Space as keys that turn in tight, trigger Pain of situations Where we move ever so slowly So gently into time – traced agony The bright turning of imagination So slowly Grooved through revolving doors, opening up to enter Mountains where spirits walk voices, ever so slowly […]...
2. Peach Blossom Journey Fishing boat pursue water love hill spring Both banks peach blossom arrive ancient river crossing Travel look red tree not know far Travel furthest blue stream not see people Mountain mouth stealthy move begin cave profound Mountain open spacious view spin flat land Far see one place accumulate cloud tree Nearby join 1000 homes scattered […]...
3. Journey's End In western lands beneath the Sun The flowers may rise in Spring, The trees may bud, the waters run, The merry finches sing. Or there maybe ’tis cloudless night, And swaying branches bear The Elven-stars as jewels white Amid their branching hair. Though here at journey’s end I lie In darkness buried deep, Beyond all […]...
4. The Night Journey Hands and lit faces eddy to a line; The dazed last minutes click; the clamour dies. Beyond the great-swung arc o’ the roof, divine, Night, smoky-scarv’d, with thousand coloured eyes Glares the imperious mystery of the way. Thirsty for dark, you feel the long-limbed train Throb, stretch, thrill motion, slide, pull out and sway, Strain […]...
5. The Journey The morning sea of silence broke into ripples of bird songs; And the flowers were all merry by the roadside; And the wealth of gold was scattered through the rift of the clouds While we busily went on our way and paid no heed. We sang no glad songs nor played; We went not to […]...
6. WINTER JOURNEY OVER THE HARTZ MOUNTAINS [The following explanation is necessary, in order To make this ode in any way intelligible. The Poet is supposed to Leave his companions, who are proceeding on a hunting expedition In winter, in order himself to pay a visit to a hypochondriacal Friend, and also to see the mining in the Hartz mountains. The ode […]...
7. Voices NOW I make a leaf of Voices-for I have found nothing mightier than they are, And I have found that no word spoken, but is beautiful, in its place. O what is it in me that makes me tremble so at voices? Surely, whoever speaks to me in the right voice, him or her I […]...
8. Covering Two Years This nothingness that feeds upon itself: Pencils that turn to water in the hand, Parts of a sentence, hanging in the air, Thoughts breaking in the mind like glass, Blank sheets of paper that reflect the world Whitened the world that I was silenced by. There were two years of that. Slowly, Whatever splits, dissevers, […]...
9. A Visitor My father, for example, Who was young once And blue-eyed, Returns On the darkest of nights To the porch and knocks Wildly at the door, And if I answer I must be prepared For his waxy face, For his lower lip Swollen with bitterness. And so, for a long time, I did not answer, But […]...
10. A Journey Through The Moonlight In sleep when an old man’s body is no longer Aware of his boundaries, and lies flattened by Gravity like a mere of wax in its bed. . . It drips Down to the floor and moves there like a tear down a Cheek. . . Under the back door into the silver meadow, Like […]...
11. Journey Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind Blow over me-I am so tired, so tired Of passing pleasant places! All my life, Following Care along the dusty road, Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed; Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand […]...
12. The Swan Did you too see it, drifting, all night, on the black river? Did you see it in the morning, rising into the silvery air – An armful of white blossoms, A perfect commotion of silk and linen as it leaned Into the bondage of its wings; a snowbank, a bank of lilies, Biting the air […]...
13. Journey Of The Magi ‘A cold coming we had of it, Just the worst time of the year For a journey, and such a journey: The ways deep and the weather sharp, The very dead of winter.’ And the camels galled, sore-footed, refractory, Lying down in the melting snow. There were times we regretted The summer palaces on slopes, […]...
14. The Journey Of A Poem Compared To All The Sad Variety Of Travel A poem moves forward, Like the passages and percussions of trains in progress A pattern of recurrence, a hammer of repetetiveoccurrence A slow less and less heard Low thunder under all passengers Steel sounds tripping and tripled and Grinding, revolving, gripping, turning, and returning As the flung carpet of the wide countryside spreads out on […]...
15. Journey Home The time that my journey takes is long and the way of it long. I came out on the chariot of the first gleam of light, and pursued my Voyage through the wildernesses of worlds leaving my track on many a star and planet. It is the most distant course that comes nearest to thyself, […]...
16. Such Singing in the Wild Branches It was spring And finally I heard him Among the first leaves – Then I saw him clutching the limb In an island of shade With his red-brown feathers All trim and neat for the new year. First, I stood still And thought of nothing. Then I began to listen. Then I was filled with […]...
17. Power of Love Love, indeed thy strength is mighty Thus, alone, such strife to bear Three ‘gainst one, and never ceasing Death, and Madness, and Despair! ‘Tis not my own strength has saved me; Health, and hope, and fortitude, But for love, had long since failed me; Heart and soul had sunk subdued. Often, in my wild impatience, […]...
18. At Bessemer 19 years old and going nowhere, I got a ride to Bessemer and walked The night road toward Birmingham Passing dark groups of men cursing The end of a week like every week. Out of town I found a small grove Of trees, high narrow pines, and I Sat back against the trunk of one […]...
19. Waking In March Last night, again, I dreamed My children were back at home, Small boys huddled in their separate beds, And I went from one to the other Listening to their breathing regular, Almost soundless until a white light Hardened against the bedroom wall, The light of Los Angeles burning south Of here, going at last as […]...
20. Clark Street Bridge DUST of the feet And dust of the wheels, Wagons and people going, All day feet and wheels. Now. . . . . Only stars and mist A lonely policeman, Two cabaret dancers, Stars and mist again, No more feet or wheels, No more dust and wagons. Voices of dollars And drops of blood . […]...
21. The Return All afternoon my father drove the country roads Between Detroit and Lansing. What he was looking for I never learned, no doubt because he never knew himself, Though he would grab any unfamiliar side road And follow where it led past fields of tall sweet corn In August or in winter those of frozen sheaves. […]...
22. The Breast One night a woman’s breast came to a man’s room and Began to talk about her twin sister. Her twin sister this and her twin sister that. Finally the man said, but what about you, dear breast? And so the breast spent the rest of the night talking about Herself. It was the same as […]...
23. Night In Iowa Nimbus clouds erasing stars above Lamoni. Jaundiced lights. Silos. Loose dogs. Cows Whose stench infuses the handful of homes, Whose sad voices storm the plains with longing....
24. Thou Strainest Through The Mountain Fern THOU strainest through the mountain fern, A most exiguously thin Burn. For all thy foam, for all thy din, Thee shall the pallid lake inurn, With well-a-day for Mr. Swin-Burne! Take then this quarto in thy fin And, O thou stoker huge and stern, The whole affair, outside and in, Burn! But save the true […]...
25. 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 […]...
26. J. Milton Miles Whenever the Presbyterian bell Was rung by itself, I knew it as the Presbyterian bell. But when its sound was mingled With the sound of the Methodist, the Christian, The Baptist and the Congregational, I could no longer distinguish it, Nor any one from the others, or either of them. And as many voices called […]...
27. 1887 From Clee to heaven the beacon burns, The shires have seen it plain, From north and south the sign returns And beacons burn again. Look left, look right, the hills are bright, The dales are light between, Because ’tis fifty years to-night That God has saved the Queen. Now, when the flame they watch not […]...
28. The House Of Dust: Part 04: 04: Counterpoint: Two Rooms He, in the room above, grown old and tired, She, in the room below-his floor her ceiling- Pursue their separate dreams. He turns his light, And throws himself on the bed, face down, in laughter. . . . She, by the window, smiles at a starlight night, His watch-the same he has heard these cycles […]...
29. The Shorter Catechism I burned my fingers on the stove And wept with bitterness; But poor old Auntie Maggie strove To comfort my distress. Said she: ‘Think, lassie, how you’ll burn Like any wicked besom In fires of hell if you don’t learn Your Shorter Catechism.’ A man’s chief end is it began, (No mention of a woman’s), […]...
30. Egrets Where the path closed down and over, through the scumbled leaves, fallen branches, Through the knotted catbrier, I kept going. Finally I could not save my arms from thorns; soon The mosquitoes smelled me, hot and wounded, and came wheeling and whining. And that’s how I came To the edge of the pond: black and […]...
31. Death In The Lounge Bar The bar he went inside was not A place he often visited; He welcomed anonymity; No one to switch inquisitive Receivers on, no one could see, Or wanted to, exactly what He was, or had been, or would be; A quiet brown place, a place to drink And let thought simmer like good stock, No […]...
32. The Broken Tryst That day a fire was in my blood; I could have sung: joy wrapt me round; The men I met seemed all so good, I scarcely knew I trod the ground. How easy seemed all toil! I laughed To think that once I hated it. The sunlight thrilled like wine, I quaffed Delight, divine and […]...
33. A Vast Confusion Long long I lay in the sands Sounds of trains in the surf In subways of the sea And an even greater undersound Of a vast confusion in the universe A rumbling and a roaring As of some enormous creature turning Under sea and earth A billion sotto voices murmuring A vast muttering A swelling […]...
34. The Journey Anghiari is medieval, a sleeve sloping down A steep hill, suddenly sweeping out To the edge of a cliff, and dwindling. But far up the mountain, behind the town, We too were swept out, out by the wind, Alone with the Tuscan grass. Wind had been blowing across the hills For days, and everything now […]...
35. A Prayer Again! Come, give, yield all your strength to me! From far a low word breathes on the breaking brain Its cruel calm, submission’s misery, Gentling her awe as to a soul predestined. Cease, silent love! My doom! Blind me with your dark nearness, O have mercy, beloved enemy of my will! I dare not withstand […]...
36. Journey West I said Goodbye To Beale Street one year, Eyes hurting From the painful contrast Of stark white on black – Dividing-lines with No intervening warm colors. West of the Mississippi The Trail of Tears Meanders, Silent imitation Of the great river, A different culture’s Babylon Although dry now, Bones’ dust Underneath retreating feet. Trading riverbanks […]...
37. Hard is the Journey Gold vessels of fine wines, Thousands a gallon, Jade dishes of rare meats, Costing more thousands, I lay my chopsticks down, No more can banquet, I draw my sword and stare Wildly about me: Ice bars my way to cross The Yellow River, Snows from dark skies to climb The T’ai-hang mountains! At peace I […]...
38. On A Journey Don’t be downcast, soon the night will come, When we can see the cool moon laughing in secret Over the faint countryside, And we rest, hand in hand. Don’t be downcast, the time will soon come When we can have rest. Our small crosses will stand On the bright edge of the road together, And […]...
39. Hymn to Love We are thine, O Love, being in thee and made of thee, As théou, Léove, were the déep thought And we the speech of the thought; yea, spoken are we, Thy fires of thought out-spoken: But burn’d not through us thy imagining Like fiérce méood in a séong céaught, We were as clamour’d words a […]...
40. Night Journey Now as the train bears west, Its rhythm rocks the earth, And from my Pullman berth I stare into the night While others take their rest. Bridges of iron lace, A suddenness of trees, A lap of mountain mist All cross my line of sight, Then a bleak wasted place, And a lake below my […]...