Mr. Brain
Mr Brain was a hermit dwarf who liked to eat shellfish off
The moon. He liked to go into a tree then because there is a
Little height to see a little further, which may reveal now the
Stone, a pebble it is a twig, it is nothing under the moon that
You can make sure of.
So Mr Brain opened his mouth to let a moonbeam into his head.
Why to be alone, and you invite the stars to tea. A cup of
Tea drinks a luminous guest.
In the winter could you sit quietly by the window, in the
Evening when you could have vinegar and pretend it to be
Wine, because you would do well to eat doughnuts and
Pretend you drink wine as you sit quietly by the window. You
May kick your leg back and forth. You may have a tendency
To not want to look there too long and turn to find darkness in
The room because it had become nighttime.
Why to be alone. You are pretty are you not/you are as
Pretty as you are not, or does that make sense.
You are not pretty, that is how you can be alone. And
Then you are pretty like fungus and alga, you are no one
Without some one, in theory alone.
Be good enough to go to bed so you can not think too
Much longer.
Related poetry:
- The Brain is wider than the Sky The Brain is wider than the Sky For put them side by side The one the other will contain With ease and You beside The Brain is deeper than the sea For hold them Blue to Blue The one the other will absorb As Sponges Buckets do The Brain is just the weight of God […]...
- Sonnet 122: Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Thy gift, thy tables, are within my brain Full charactered with lasting memory, Which shall above that idle rank remain Beyond all date even to eternity- Or at the least, so long as brain and heart Have faculty by nature to subsist; Till each to razed oblivion yield his part Of thee, thy record never […]...
- The Brain, within its Groove The Brain, within its Groove Runs evenly and true But let a Splinter swerve ‘Twere easier for You To put a Current back When Floods have slit the Hills And scooped a Turnpike for Themselves And trodden out the Mills...
- This is a Blossom of the Brain This is a Blossom of the Brain A small italic Seed Lodged by Design or Happening The Spirit fructified Shy as the Wind of his Chambers Swift as a Freshet’s Tongue So of the Flower of the Soul Its process is unknown. When it is found, a few rejoice The Wise convey it Home Carefully […]...
- Sonnet 108: What's in the brain that ink may character What’s in the brain that ink may character Which hath not figured to thee my true spirit? What’s new to speak, what now to register, That may express my love, or thy dear merit? Nothing, sweet boy, but yet, like prayers divine, I must each day say o’er the very same, Counting no old thing […]...
- I felt a Funeral, in my Brain I felt a Funeral, in my Brain, And Mourners to and fro Kept treading treading till it seemed That Sense was breaking through And when they all were seated, A Service, like a Drum Kept beating beating till I thought My Mind was going numb And then I heard them lift a Box And creak […]...
- I've dropped my Brain My Soul is numb I’ve dropped my Brain My Soul is numb The Veins that used to run Stop palsied ’tis Paralysis Done perfecter on stone Vitality is Carved and cool. My nerve in Marble lies A Breathing Woman Yesterday Endowed with Paradise. Not dumb I had a sort that moved A Sense that smote and stirred Instincts for […]...
- Dream Song 58: Industrious, affable, having brain on fire Industrious, affable, having brain on fire, Henry perplexed himself; others gave up; Good girls gave in; Geography was hard on friendship, Sire; Marriages lashed & languished, anguished; dearth of group And what else had been; The splendour & the lose grew all the same, Sire. His heart stiffened, and he failed to smile, Catching (enfit) […]...
- Sonnet XLIX: Thou Leaden Brain Thou leaden brain, which censur’st what I write, And say’st my lines be dull and do not move, I marvel not thou feel’st not my delight, Which never felt’st my fiery touch of love. But thou, whose pen hath like a pack-horse serv’d, Whose stomach unto gall hath turn’d thy food, Whose senses, like poor […]...
- Nadir If we must cheat ourselves with any dream, Then let it be a dream of nobleness: Since it is necessary to express Gall from black grapes to sew an endless seam With a rusty needle chase a spurious gleam Narrowing to the nothing through the less Since life’s no better than a bitter guess, And […]...
- Doughnut denial (an ascetic poem for karen’s birthday) Fancy having a birthday on a thursday When you do the buying of the doughnuts And others lick their sticky fingers Thinking good old karen letting Us share the eating of her birthday Not me of course – i sit at home (alone) Reflecting it is purification day Today […]...
- A list of some observation A list of some observation. In a corner, it’s warm. A glance leaves an imprint on anything it’s dwelt on. Water is glass’s most public form. Man is more frightening than its skeleton. A nowhere winter evening with wine. A black Porch resists an osier’s stiff assaults. Fixed on an elbow, the body bulks Like […]...
- Horse Fiddle FIRST I would like to write for you a poem to be shouted in the teeth of a strong wind. Next I would like to write one for you to sit on a hill and read down the river valley on a late summer afternoon, reading it in less than a whisper to Jack on […]...
- THE INVITATION To sup with thee thou didst me home invite, And mad’st a promise that mine appetite Should meet and tire, on such lautitious meat, The like not Heliogabalus did eat: And richer wine would’st give to me, thy guest, Than Roman Sylla pour’d out at his feast. I came, ’tis true, and look’d for fowl […]...
- The Cocoon As far as I can see this autumn haze That spreading in the evening air both way, Makes the new moon look anything but new, And pours the elm-tree meadow full of blue, Is all the smoke from one poor house alone With but one chimney it can call its own; So close it will […]...
- Three-With the Moon and His Shadow With a jar of wine I sit by the flowering trees. I drink alone, and where are my friends? Ah, the moon above looks down on me; I call and lift my cup to his brightness. And see, there goes my shadow before me. Ho! We’re a party of three, I say,- Though the poor […]...
- On a Primitive Canoe Here, passing lonely down this quiet lane, Before a mud-splashed window long I pause To gaze and gaze, while through my active brain Still thoughts are stirred to wakefulness; because Long, long ago in a dim unknown land, A massive forest-tree, ax-felled, adze-hewn, Was deftly done by cunning mortal hand Into a symbol of the […]...
- The Stranger The restaurants on hot spring evenings Lie under a dense and savage air. Foul drafts and hoots from dunken revelers Contaminate the thoroughfare. Above the dusty lanes of suburbia Above the tedium of bungalows A pretzel sign begilds a bakery And children screech fortissimo. And every evening beyond the barriers Gentlemen of practiced wit and […]...
- A koestler on the human brain the man and the horse and the crocodile Lay down on the couch together The man said This isn’t going to work The horse neighed I love you The crocodile Slimy as ever Neither complained nor adored Idly It snapped its jaws And got on with the feast...
- Good Hours I had for my winter evening walk No one at all with whom to talk, But I had the cottages in a row Up to their shining eyes in snow. And I thought I had the folk within: I had the sound of a violin; I had a glimpse through curtain laces Of youthful forms […]...
- The Moon of Other Days Beneath the deep veranda’s shade, When bats begin to fly, I sit me down and watch alas! Another evening die. Blood-red behind the sere ferash She rises through the haze. Sainted Diana! can that be The Moon of Other Days? Ah! shade of little Kitty Smith, Sweet Saint of Kensington! Say, was it ever thus […]...
- In Response To A Rumor That The Oldest Whorehouse In Wheeling, West Virginia, Has Been Condemned I will grieve alone, As I strolled alone, years ago, down along The Ohio shore. I hid in the hobo jungle weeds Upstream from the sewer main, Pondering, gazing. I saw, down river, At Twenty-third and Water Streets By the vinegar works, The doors open in early evening. Swinging their purses, the women Poured down […]...
- Dancing Tango Oh, Orlando! Remember the night we danced Quietly on the sands where music Was played? Your words were Wonderers, said quietly In the pockets of my ears. Oh, Esphahan! With your turquoise blue mosques And lovers hiding under the sands By the Zayandehrood and its haunting Blue skies. Still the words did Wonders when they […]...
- The Tired Worker O whisper, O my soul! The afternoon Is waning into evening, whisper soft! Peace, O my rebel heart! for soon the moon From out its misty veil will swing aloft! Be patient, weary body, soon the night Will wrap thee gently in her sable sheet, And with a leaden sigh thou wilt invite To rest […]...
- The Astronomer I only said, “When in the evening the round full moon gets Entangled among the beaches of that Dadam tree, couldn’t somebody Catch it?” But dada laughed at me and said, “Baby, you are the silliest Child I have ever known. The moon is ever so far from us, how could Anybody catch it?” I […]...
- Suzanne Brother Paul! look! -but he rushes to a different Window. The moon! I heard shrieks and thought: What’s that? That’s just Suzanne Talking to the moon! Pounding on the window With both fists: Paul! Paul! -and talking to the moon. Shrieking And pounding the glass With both fists! Brother Paul! the moon!...
- Alone And Drinking Under The Moon Amongst the flowers I Am alone with my pot of wine Drinking by myself; then lifting My cup I asked the moon To drink with me, its reflection And mine in the wine cup, just The three of us; then I sigh For the moon cannot drink, And my shadow goes emptily along With me […]...
- Hands There was a road that leads him to go to find A certain time where he sits. Smokes quietly in the evening by the four legged Table wagging its (well why not) tail, friendly Chap. Hears footsteps, looks to find his own feet gone. The road absorbs everything with rumors of sleep. And then he […]...
- Anticipation I have been temperate always, But I am like to be very drunk With your coming. There have been times I feared to walk down the street Lest I should reel with the wine of you, And jerk against my neighbours As they go by. I am parched now, and my tongue is horrible in […]...
- Wind and Window Flower LOVERS, forget your love, And list to the love of these, She a window flower, And he a winter breeze. When the frosty window veil Was melted down at noon, And the cagèd yellow bird Hung over her in tune, He marked her through the pane, He could not help but mark, And only passed […]...
- Let Evening Come Let the light of late afternoon Shine through chinks in the barn, moving Up the bales as the sun moves down. Let the cricket take up chafing As a woman takes up her needles And her yarn. Let evening come. Let dew collect on the hoe abandoned In long grass. Let the stars appear And […]...
- A London Thoroughfare. 2 A. M They have watered the street, It shines in the glare of lamps, Cold, white lamps, And lies Like a slow-moving river, Barred with silver and black. Cabs go down it, One, And then another. Between them I hear the shuffling of feet. Tramps doze on the window-ledges, Night-walkers pass along the sidewalks. The city is […]...
- Evening Song of the Thoughtful Child Shadow children, thin and small, Now the day is left behind, You are dancing on the wall, On the curtains, on the blind. On the ceiling, children, too, Peeping round the nursery door, Let me come and play with you, As we always played before. Let’s pretend that we have wings And can really truly […]...
- Never Suddenly, desperately I thought, “No, never In millions of minutes Can I for one second Calm-leaving my own self Like clothes on a chair-back And quietly opening The door of one house (No, not one of all millions) Of blood, flesh and brain, Climb the nerve-stair and look From the tower, from the windows Of […]...
- Glazunoviana The man with the red hat And the polar bear, is he here too? The window giving on shade, Is that here too? And all the little helps, My initials in the sky, The hay of an arctic summer night? The bear Drops dead in sight of the window. Lovely tribes have just moved to […]...
- Chiang Chin Chiu See the waters of the Yellow River leap down from Heaven, Roll away to the deep sea and never turn again! See at the mirror In the High Hall Aged men bewailing white locks – In the morning, threads of silk, In the evening flakes of snow. Snatch the joys Of life as they come […]...
- Song “Oh! Love,” they said, “is King of Kings, And Triumph is his crown. Earth fades in flame before his wings, And Sun and Moon bow down.” But that, I knew, would never do; And Heaven is all too high. So whenever I meet a Queen, I said, I will not catch her eye. “Oh! Love,” […]...
- Litany You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine… – Jacques Crickillon You are the bread and the knife, The crystal goblet and the wine. You are the dew on the morning grass And the burning wheel of the sun. You are the white apron of the baker, And the marsh […]...
- The House Of Dust: Part 01: 02: One, from his high bright window in a tower One, from his high bright window in a tower, Leans out, as evening falls, And sees the advancing curtain of the shower Splashing its silver on roofs and walls: Sees how, swift as a shadow, it crosses the city, And murmurs beyond far walls to the sea, Leaving a glimmer of water in the dark […]...
- Song of Karen, the Dancing Child (O little white feet of mine) Out in the storm and the rain you fly; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Can the children hear my cry? (O little white feet of mine) Never a child in the whole great town; (Red, red shoes the colour of wine) Lights out and the blinds pulled […]...