Nomad Exquisite

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1. Is White a Color? White, pristine, unblemished They say it is not a color I love white mists, clouds Lingering on blue mountains. White, no shades No off white, cream Pure as snow on shimmering peaks Is my favorite sight. Nurses, priests, politicians Are bound, chained to white White nebulous clouds Evoke deep nostalgic thoughts. They swaddled my father […]...
2. Locations and Times LOCATIONS and times-what is it in me that meets them all, whenever and wherever, and makes me at home? Forms, colors, densities, odors-what is it in me that corresponds with them?...
3. At the Lake Pavilion Small barge go to meet honoured guest Leisurely lake on come At railing face cup alcohol On all sides lotus bloom On a skiff I meet an honoured guest, Slowly, slowly, it comes across the lake. Facing at the railing, we drink a cup of wine, On all sides, lotus flowers are in bloom....
4. The Tortoise In Keystone Heights When I knew, it was raining. Winter in decline. I was tired. You in your soaked shirt diffused Into the western sky bulging with clouds, Speeding cars a few feet away- Why would they not slow down? Though afternoon, a slip of moon Busied itself with rising, And it had to mean something. If only […]...
5. The Weeping I have shut my windows. I do not want to hear the weeping. But from behind the grey walls. Nothing is heard but the weeping. There are few angels that sing. There are few dogs that bark. A thousand violins fit in the palm of the hand. But the weeping is an immense angel. The […]...
6. The Alligator Bride The clock of my days winds down. The cat eats sparrows outside my window. Once, she brought me a small rabbit Which we devoured together, under The Empire Table While the men shrieked Repossessing the gold umbrella. Now the beard on my clock turns white. My cat stares into dark corners Missing her gold umbrella. […]...
7. The Curse Cedars and the westward sun. The darkening sky. A man alone Watches beside the fallen wall The evening multitudes of sin Crowd in upon us all. For when the light fails they begin Nocturnal sabotage among The outcast and the loose of tongue, The lax in walk, the murderers: Our twilight universal curse. Children are […]...
8. Domination Of Black At night, by the fire, The colors of the bushes And of the fallen leaves, Repeating themselves, Turned in the room, Like the leaves themselves Turning in the wind. Yes: but the color of the heavy hemlocks Came striding. And I remembered the cry of the peacocks. The colors of their tails Were like the […]...
9. The Two-Sided Man Much I owe to the Lands that grew More to the Lives that fed But most to Allah Who gave me two Separate sides to my head. Much I reflect on the Good and the True In the Faiths beneath the sun, But most to Allah Who gave me two Sides to my head, not […]...
10. Sonnet On The Death Of Mr Richard West In vain to me the smiling mornings shine, And redd’ning Phoebus lifts his golden fire: The birds in vain their amorous descant join; Or cheerful fields resume their green attire: These ears, alas! for other notes repine, A different object do these eyes require: My lonely anguish melts no heart but mine; And in my […]...
11. February: The Boy Breughel The birches stand in their beggar’s row: Each poor tree Has had its wrists nearly Torn from the clear sleeves of bone, These icy trees Are hanging by their thumbs Under a sun That will begin to heal them soon, Each will climb out Of its own blue, oval mouth; The river groans, Two birds […]...
12. The Undertaker's Horse The eldest son bestrides him, And the pretty daughter rides him, And I meet him oft o’ mornings on the Course; And there kindles in my bosom An emotion chill and gruesome As I canter past the Undertaker’s Horse. Neither shies he nor is restive, But a hideously suggestive Trot, professional and placid, he affects; […]...
13. Called Into Play Fall fell: so that’s it for the leaf poetry: Some flurries have whitened the edges of roads And lawns: time for that, the snow stuff: & Turkeys and old St. Nick: where am I going to Find something to write about I haven’t already Written away: I will have to stop short, look Down, look […]...
14. One Sweeps By ONE sweeps by, attended by an immense train, All emblematic of peace-not a soldier or menial among them. One sweeps by, old, with black eyes, and profuse white hair, He has the simple magnificence of health and strength, His face strikes as with flashes of lightning whoever it turns toward. Three old men slowly pass, […]...
15. October The forest holds high carnival to-day, And every hill-side glows with gold and fire; Ivy and sumac dress in colors gay, And oak and maple mask in bright attire. The hoarded wealth of sober autumn days In lavish mood for motley garb is spent, And nature for the while at folly plays, Knowing the morrow […]...
16. Send No Money Standing under the fobbed Impendent belly of Time Tell me the truth, I said, Teach me the way things go. All the other lads there Were itching to have a bash, But I thought wanting unfair: It and finding out clash. So he patted my head, booming Boy, There’s no green in your eye: Sit […]...
17. Hamlet Off-Stage: Mona Gator Our mascot lives low, a baby alligator. She’s our happy-and-sad mask all at once, Mona Lisa her name. She’s my ideal, Her wrap-around grin both a smile and snarl....
18. The House Of Hospitalities Here we broached the Christmas barrel, Pushed up the charred log-ends; Here we sang the Christmas carol, And called in friends. Time has tired me since we met here When the folk now dead were young, And the viands were outset here And quaint songs sung. And the worm has bored the viol That used […]...
19. 516. Song-I'll aye ca' in by yon town Chorus-I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And by yon garden-green again; I’ll aye ca’ in by yon town, And see my bonie Jean again. THERE’S nane sall ken, there’s nane can guess What brings me back the gate again, But she, my fairest faithfu’ lass, And stownlins we sall meet again. I’ll aye ca’ […]...
20. You Begin You begin this way: This is your hand, This is your eye, This is a fish, blue and flat On the paper, almost The shape of an eye This is your mouth, this is an O Or a moon, whichever You like. This is yellow. Outside the window Is the rain, green Because it is […]...
21. Her south china sea eyes young girl With her south china sea Eyes Where an ocean wind Sighs Stands as she tries. In the silence Between day and night Between hope and dreaming, Water is carved Deep In where a poet grows In where a child to woman Perceives. A young girl dares To paint Her colors true To dance […]...
22. Four Haiku Spring: A hill without a name Veiled in morning mist. The beginning of autumn: Sea and emerald paddy Both the same green. The winds of autumn Blow: yet still green The chestnut husks. A flash of lightning: Into the gloom Goes the heron’s cry....
23. I learned at least what Home could be I learned at least what Home could be How ignorant I had been Of pretty ways of Covenant How awkward at the Hymn Round our new Fireside but for this This pattern of the Way Whose Memory drowns me, like the Dip Of a Celestial Sea What Mornings in our Garden guessed What Bees for […]...
24. The Tropics in New York Bananas ripe and green, and ginger-root, Cocoa in pods and alligator pears, And tangerines and mangoes and grape fruit, Fit for the highest prize at parish fairs, Set in the window, bringing memories Of fruit-trees laden by low-singing rills, And dewy dawns, and mystical blue skies In benediction over nun-like hills. My eyes grew dim, […]...
25. Morning Poem #43 I close my eyes And there it is A concrete walkway Leading out of a Small village Hugging the sides Of a green green Tree filled mountainside And to the right A pipe railing Paited the color Of oxidized metaland even firther To my right A small beach Costline-an ocean All under a pale blue […]...
26. The Book of Urizen: Chapter III 1. The voice ended, they saw his pale visage Emerge from the darkness; his hand On the rock of eternity unclasping The Book of brass. Rage siez’d the strong 2. Rage, fury, intense indignation In cataracts of fire blood & gall In whirlwinds of sulphurous smoke: And enormous forms of energy; All the seven deadly […]...
27. The Weed I dreamed that dead, and meditating, I lay upon a grave, or bed, (at least, some cold and close-built bower). In the cold heart, its final thought Stood frozen, drawn immense and clear, Stiff and idle as I was there; And we remained unchanged together For a year, a minute, an hour. Suddenly there was […]...
28. Bivouac on a Mountain Side I SEE before me now, a traveling army halting; Below, a fertile valley spread, with barns, and the orchards of summer; Behind, the terraced sides of a mountain, abrupt in places, rising high; Broken, with rocks, with clinging cedars, with tall shapes, dingily seen; The numerous camp-fires scatter’d near and far, some away up on […]...
29. Of a Woman, Dead Young If she had been beautiful, even, Or wiser than women about her, Or had moved with a certain defiance; If she had had sons at her sides, And she with her hands on their shoulders, Sons, to make troubled the Gods- But where was there wonder in her? What had she, better or eviler, Whose […]...
30. Our Mother Pocahontas (Note: – Pocahontas is buried at Gravesend, England.) “Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a red haw in November or a pawpaw in May – did she wonder? does she remember – in the dust – in the cool tombs?” CARL SANDBURG. I Powhatan was conqueror, Powhatan was emperor. He was akin to […]...
31. Slants at Buffalo, New York A FOREFINGER of stone, dreamed by a sculptor, points to the sky. It says: This way! this way! Four lions snore in stone at the corner of the shaft. They too are the dream of a sculptor. They too say: This way! this way! The street cars swing at a curve. The middle-class passengers witness […]...
32. The Map Land lies in water; it is shadowed green. Shadows, or are they shallows, at its edges Showing the line of long sea-weeded ledges Where weeds hang to the simple blue from green. Or does the land lean down to lift the sea from under, Drawing it unperturbed around itself? Along the fine tan sandy shelf […]...
33. The Last Mowing There’s a place called Far-away Meadow We never shall mow in again, Or such is the talk at the farmhouse: The meadow is finished with men. Then now is the chance for the flowers That can’t stand mowers and plowers. It must be now, through, in season Before the not mowing brings trees on, Before […]...
34. Love Poem Yours is the face that the earth turns to me, Continuous beyond its human features lie The mountain forms that rest against the sky. With your eyes, the reflecting rainbow, the sun’s light Sees me; forest and flower, bird and beast Know and hold me forever in the world’s thought, Creation’s deep untroubled retrospect. When […]...
35. The Bough of Nonsense AN IDYLL Back from the Somme two Fusiliers Limped painfully home; the elder said, S. “Robert, I’ve lived three thousand years This Summer, and I’m nine parts dead.” R. “But if that’s truly so,” I cried, “quick, now, Through these great oaks and see the famous bough “Where once a nonsense built her nest With […]...
36. A Triolet Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet. It makes bad writers somewhat worse: Of all the sickly forms of verse, That fall beneath a reader’s curse, It is the feeblest jingle yet. Of all the sickly forms of verse, Commend me to the triolet....
37. 430. Song-Dainty Davie NOW rosy May comes in wi’ flowers, To deck her gay, green-spreading bowers; And now comes in the happy hours, To wander wi’ my Davie. Chorus.-Meet me on the warlock knowe, Dainty Davie, Dainty Davie; There I’ll spend the day wi’ you, My ain dear Dainty Davie. The crystal waters round us fa’, The merry […]...
38. My Last Dance The shell of objects inwardly consumed Will stand, till some convulsive wind awakes; Such sense hath Fire to waste the heart of things, Nature, such love to hold the form she makes. Thus, wasted joys will show their early bloom, Yet crumble at the breath of a caress; The golden fruitage hides the scathèd bough, […]...
39. A GLEAM OF SUNSHINE This is the place. Stand still, my steed, Let me review the scene, And summon from the shadowy Past The forms that once have been. The Past and Present here unite Beneath Time’s flowing tide, Like footprints hidden by a brook, But seen on either side. Here runs the highway to the town; There the […]...
40. Apollo Musagetes Through the black, rushing smoke-bursts, Thick breaks the red flame; All Etna heaves fiercely Her forest-clothed frame. Not here, O Apollo! Are haunts meet for thee. But, where Helicon breaks down In cliff to the sea, Where the moon-silver’d inlets Send far their light voice Up the still vale of Thisbe, O speed, and rejoice! […]...