A Woman Waking

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1. Woman Work I’ve got the children to tend The clothes to mend The floor to mop The food to shop Then the chicken to fry The baby to dry I got company to feed The garden to weed I’ve got shirts to press The tots to dress The can to be cut I gotta clean up this […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. Waking at 3 a. m Even in the cave of the night when you Wake and are free and lonely, Neglected by others, discarded, loved only By what doesn’t matter even in that Big room no one can see, You push with your eyes till forever Comes in its twisted figure eight And lies down in your head. You think […]...
4. Old Woman THE owl-car clatters along, dogged by the echo From building and battered paving-stone. The headlight scoffs at the mist, And fixes its yellow rays in the cold slow rain; Against a pane I press my forehead And drowsily look on the walls and sidewalks. The headlight finds the way And life is gone from the […]...
5. Sea Rose Rose, harsh rose, Marred and with stint of petals, Meagre flower, thin, Sparse of leaf, More precious Than a wet rose Single on a stem You are caught in the drift. Stunted, with small leaf, You are flung on the sand, You are lifted In the crisp sand That drives in the wind. Can the […]...
6. Any Woman I am the pillars of the house; The keystone of the arch am I. Take me away, and roof and wall Would fall to ruin me utterly. I am the fire upon the hearth, I am the light of the good sun, I am the heat that warms the earth, Which else were colder than […]...
7. The Voice of Age She’d look upon us, if she could, As hard as Rhadamanthus would; Yet one may see,-who sees her face, Her crown of silver and of lace, Her mystical serene address Of age alloyed with loveliness,- That she would not annihilate The frailest of things animate. She has opinions of our ways, And if we’re not […]...
8. Love Song I lie here thinking of you:- The stain of love Is upon the world! Yellow, yellow, yellow It eats into the leaves, Smears with saffron The horned branched the lean Heavily Against a smooth purple sky! There is no light Only a honey-thick stain That drips from leaf to leaf And limb to limb Spoiling […]...
9. A Woman's Shortcomings She has laughed as softly as if she sighed, She has counted six, and over, Of a purse well filled, and a heart well tried – Oh, each a worthy lover! They “give her time”; for her soul must slip Where the world has set the grooving; She will lie to none with her fair […]...
10. Bruise blue Frail as smoke, she drifts through the crowded train, bringing with her the cold ashes of poverty. Without a word, her bruise-blue eyes try to niggle each passenger to part with coins or a note. The sign pleads her story: Three children in foster care. Like promises of happier times, some passengers toss hard-edged confetti […]...
11. Humming Bird Woman WHY should I be wondering How you would look in black velvet and yellow? in orange and green? I who cannot remember whether it was a dash of blue Or a whirr of red under your willow throat- Why do I wonder how you would look in humming-bird feathers?...
12. Those Were The Days The sun came up before breakfast, Perfectly round and yellow, and we Dressed in the soft light and shook out Our long blond curls and waited For Maid to brush them flat and place The part just where it belonged. We came down the carpeted stairs One step at a time, in single file, Gleaming […]...
13. The Most Beautiful Woman In Town Cass was the youngest and most beautiful of 5 sisters. Cass was the most beautiful girl In town. 1/2 Indian with a supple and strange body, a snake-like and fiery body with eyes To go with it. Cass was fluid moving fire. She was like a spirit stuck into a form that Would not hold […]...
14. Song from The Silent Woman Still to be neat, still to be dressed, As you were going to a feast; Still to be powdered, still perfumed: Lady, it is to be presumed, Though art’s hid causes are not found, All is not sweet, all is not sound. Give me a look, give me a face, That makes simplicity a grace; […]...
15. A Pretty Woman I That fawn-skin-dappled hair of hers, And the blue eye Dear and dewy, And that infantine fresh air of hers! II To think men cannot take you, Sweet, And enfold you, Ay, and hold you, And so keep you what they make you, Sweet! III You like us for a glance, you know – For […]...
16. The Waking I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of […]...
17. Waking in the Blue The night attendant, a B. U. sophomore, Rouses from the mare’s-nest of his drowsy head Propped on The Meaning of Meaning. He catwalks down our corridor. Azure day Makes my agonized blue window bleaker. Crows maunder on the petrified fairway. Absence! My hearts grows tense As though a harpoon were sparring for the kill. (This […]...
18. Half-waking I thought it was the little bed I slept in long ago; A straight white curtain at the head, And two smooth knobs below. I thought I saw the nursery fire, And in a chair well-known My mother sat, and did not tire With reading all alone. If I should make the slightest sound To […]...
19. Dreams are well but Waking's better Dreams are well but Waking’s better, If One wake at morn If One wake at Midnight better Dreaming of the Dawn Sweeter the Surmising Robins Never gladdened Tree Than a Solid Dawn confronting Leading to no Day...
20. The Leaf And The Tree When will you learn, myself, to be A dying leaf on a living tree? Budding, swelling, growing strong, Wearing green, but not for long, Drawing sustenance from air, That other leaves, and you not there, May bud, and at the autumn’s call Wearing russet, ready to fall? Has not this trunk a deed to do […]...
21. Notes For The Legend Of Salad Woman Since my wife was born She must have eaten The equivalent of two-thirds Of the original garden of Eden. Not the dripping lush fruit Or the meat in the ribs of animals But the green salad gardens of that place. The whole arena of green Would have been eradicated As if the right filter had […]...
22. Woman you have gone away from yourself You walk in a dead way Your loins have lost their sweets Your breasts deny touch Your face exudes cold pain Everything you were Now you are not The revolution then Has nearly been successful...
23. The Death of the Flowers The melancholy days are come, the saddest of the year, Of wailing winds, and naked woods, and meadows brown and sere. Heaped in the hollows of the grove, the autumn leaves lie dead; They rustle to the eddying gust, and to the rabbit’s tread; The robin and the wren are flown, and from the shrubs […]...
24. A Woman Unconscious Russia and America circle each other; Threats nudge an act that were without doubt A melting of the mould in the mother, Stones melting about the root. The quick of the earth burned out: The toil of all our ages a loss With leaf and insect. Yet flitting thought (Not to be thought ridiculous) Shies […]...
25. Demos I All you that are enamored of my name And least intent on what most I require, Beware; for my design and your desire, Deplorably, are not as yet the same. Beware, I say, the failure and the shame Of losing that for which you now aspire So blindly, and of hazarding entire The gift […]...
26. The Barefoot Boy Blessings on thee, little man, Barefoot boy, with cheek of tan! With thy turned-up pantaloons, And thy merry whistled tunes; With thy red lip, redder still Kissed by strawberries on the hill; With the sunshine on thy face, Through thy torn brim’s jaunty grace; From my heart I give thee joy, – I was once […]...
27. The House In The Woods At the back of the houses there is the wood. While there is a leaf of summer left, the wood Makes sounds I can put somewhere in my song, Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to good Or evil: to the cage, to the oven, to the House In the Wood. It is […]...
28. The Three Roses When the buds began to burst, Long ago, with Rose the First I was walking; joyous then Far above all other men, Till before us up there stood Britonferry’s oaken wood, Whispering, “Happy as thou art, Happiness and thou must part.” Many summers have gone by Since a Second Rose and I (Rose from the […]...
29. Conscious His fingers wake, and flutter up the bed. His eyes come open with a pull of will, Helped by the yellow may-flowers by his head. A blind-cord drawls across the window-sill. . . How smooth the floor of the ward is! what a rug! And who’s that talking, somewhere out of sight? Why are they […]...
30. On Being A Woman Why is it, when I am in Rome, I’d give an eye to be at home, But when on native earth I be, My soul is sick for Italy? And why with you, my love, my lord, Am I spectacularly bored, Yet do you up and leave me – then I scream to have you […]...
31. Beloved, Let Us Once More Praise The Rain Beloved, let us once more praise the rain. Let us discover some new alphabet, For this, the often praised; and be ourselves, The rain, the chickweed, and the burdock leaf, The green-white privet flower, the spotted stone, And all that welcomes the rain; the sparrow too,- Who watches with a hard eye from seclusion, Beneath […]...
32. In rags mysterious as these In rags mysterious as these The shining Courtiers go Veiling the purple, and the plumes Veiling the ermine so. Smiling, as they request an alms At some imposing door! Smiling when we walk barefoot Upon their golden floor!...
33. The Old Woman of Berkeley The Raven croak’d as she sate at her meal, And the Old Woman knew what he said, And she grew pale at the Raven’s tale, And sicken’d and went to her bed. ‘Now fetch me my children, and fetch them with speed,’ The Old Woman of Berkeley said, ‘The Monk my son, and my daughter […]...
34. My Bed is Covered Yellow My bed is covered yellow – Oh Sun, I sit on you Oh golden field I lay on you Oh money I dream of you More, More, cried the bed – talk to me more – Oh bed that taked the weight of the world – all the lost dreams laid on you Oh bed […]...
35. Adonis 1. Each of us like you Has died once, Has passed through drift of wood-leaves, Cracked and bent And tortured and unbent In the winter-frost, The burnt into gold points, Lighted afresh, Crisp amber, scales of gold-leaf, Gold turned and re-welded In the sun; Each of us like you Has died once, Each of us […]...
36. Night Words after Juan Ramon A child wakens in a cold apartment. The windows are frosted. Outside he hears Words rising from the streets, words he cannot Understand, and then the semis gear down For the traffic light on Houston. He sleeps Again and dreams of another city On a high hill above a wide river Bathed […]...
37. The Woman So beautiful God himself quailed At her approach: the long body curved Like the horizon. Why had he made Her so? How would it be, she said, Leaning towards him, if instead of Quarreling over it, we divided it Between us? You can have all the credit For its invention, if you will leave the […]...
38. When Lovely Woman Stoops To Folly When lovely woman stoops to folly, And finds too late that men betray, What charm can soothe her melancholy, What art can wash her guilt away? The only art her guilt to cover, To hide her shame from every eye, To give repentance to her lover, And wring his bosom, is-to die....
39. Brooding Grief A yellow leaf from the darkness Hops like a frog before me. Why should I start and stand still? I was watching the woman that bore me Stretched in the brindled darkness Of the sick-room, rigid with will To die: and the quick leaf tore me Back to this rainy swill Of leaves and lamps […]...
40. Thing Language This ocean, humiliating in its disguises Tougher than anything. No one listens to poetry. The ocean Does not mean to be listened to. A drop Or crash of water. It means Nothing. It Is bread and butter Pepper and salt. The death That young men hope for. Aimlessly It pounds the shore. White and aimless […]...