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1. The Wrong Way Home All night a door floated down the river. It tried to remember little incidents of pleasure From its former life, like the time the lovers Leaned against it kissing for hours And whispering those famous words. Later, there were harsh words and a shoe Was thrown and the door was slammed. Comings and goings by […]...
2. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
3. The Trade They bear, in place of classic names, Letters and numbers on their skin. They play their grisly blindfold games In little boxes made of tin. Sometimes they stalk the Zeppelin, Sometimes they learn where mines are laid, Or where the Baltic ice is thin. That is the custom of “The Trade.” Few prize-courts sit upon […]...
4. To the River Charles River! that in silence windest Through the meadows, bright and free, Till at length thy rest thou findest In the bosom of the sea! Four long years of mingled feeling, Half in rest, and half in strife, I have seen thy waters stealing Onward, like the stream of life. Thou hast taught me, Silent River! […]...
5. Prayer Over a dock railing, I watch the minnows, thousands, swirl Themselves, each a minuscule muscle, but also, without the Way to create current, making of their unison (turning, re- infolding, Entering and exiting their own unison in unison) making of themselves a Visual current, one that cannot freight or sway by Minutest fractions the water’s […]...
6. The Perch Perch on their water perch hung in the clear Bann River Near the clay bank in alder dapple and waver, Perch they called ‘grunts’, little flood-slubs, runty and ready, I saw and I see in the river’s glorified body That is passable through, but they’re bluntly holding the Pass, Under the water-roof, over the bottom, […]...
7. The Road That Runs Beside The River follows the river as it bends Along the valley floor, Going the way it must. Where water goes, so goes the road, If there’s room (not in a ravine, Gorge), the river On your right or left. Left is better: when you’re driving, It’s over your elbow across The road. You see the current, which […]...
8. Lament Where are those dazzling hills touched by the sun, Those crags in childhood that I used to climb? Hidden, hidden under mist is yonder mountain, Hidden is the heart. A day of cloud, a lifetime falls between, Gone are the heather moors and the pure stream, Gone are the rocky places and the green, Hidden, […]...
9. The Rainy Day Sullen clouds are gathering fast over the black fringe of the Forest. O child, do not go out! The palm trees in a row by the lake are smiting their heads Against the dismal sky; the crows with their dragged wings are Silent on the tamarind branches, and the eastern bank of the river Is […]...
10. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
11. Where Go the Boats? Dark brown is the river, Golden is the sand. It flows along for ever, With trees on either hand. Green leaves a-floating, Castles of the foam, Boats of mine a-boating – Where will all come home? On goes the river And out past the mill, Away down the valley, Away down the hill. Away down […]...
12. Anna Who Was Mad Anna who was mad, I have a knife in my armpit. When I stand on tiptoe I tap out messages. Am I some sort of infection? Did I make you go insane? Did I make the sounds go sour? Did I tell you to climb out the window? Forgive. Forgive. Say not I did. Say […]...
13. A Ripple Song Once red ripple came to land In the golden sunset burning Lapped against a maiden’s hand, By the ford returning. Dainty foot and gentle breast Here, across, be glad and rest. “Maiden, wait,” the ripplee saith; “Wait awhile, for I am Death!” “Where my lover calls I go Shame it were to treat him coldly […]...
14. Reedy River Ten miles down Reedy River A pool of water lies, And all the year it mirrors The changes in the skies, And in that pool’s broad bosom Is room for all the stars; Its bed of sand has drifted O’er countless rocky bars. Around the lower edges There waves a bed of reeds, Where water […]...
15. The Klondike Never mind the day we left, or the day the women clung to us; All we need now is the last way they looked at us. Never mind the twelve men there amid the cheering – Twelve men or one man, ‘t will soon be all the same; For this is what we know: we […]...
16. Security Tomorrow will have an island. Before night I always find it. Then on to the next island. These places hidden in the day separate And come forward if you beckon. But you have to know they are there before they exist. Some time there will be a tomorrow without any island. So far, I haven’t […]...
17. Wordsworth Wordsworth, thy music like a river rolls Among the mountains, and thy song is fed By living springs far up the watershed; No whirling flood nor parching drought controls The crystal current: even on the shoals It murmurs clear and sweet; and when its bed Darkens below mysterious cliffs of dread, Thy voice of peace […]...
18. Remembering Mountain Men I put my foot in cold water And hold it there: early mornings They had to wade through broken ice To find the traps in the deep channel With their hands, drag up the chains and The drowned beaver. The slow current Of the life below tugs at me all day. When I dream at […]...
19. The Gardener IV: Ah Me Ah me, why did they build my House by the road to the market Town? They moor their laden boats near My trees. They come and go and wander at Their will. I sit and watch them; my time Wears on. Turn them away I cannot. And Thus my days pass by. Night and day […]...
20. Ebony Life A frightening stillness will mark that day And the shadow of streetlights and fire-alarms will exhaust the light All things, the quietest and the loudest, will be silent The suckling brats will die The tugboats the locomotives the wind will glide by in silence We will hear the great voice which coming from far away […]...
21. WITHOUT THE WHEREWITHALL To Thushari Williams Dear Thushie, the six months you spent with us Will never be forgotten, the long days you laboured In the care home, your care-worn comings home To sit with Brenda Williams, poиte maudit sang pur, Labouring together to bring to light poems buried alive And turn them into a book, the living […]...
22. Isaiah Beethoven They told me I had three months to live, So I crept to Bernadotte, And sat by the mill for hours and hours Where the gathered waters deeply moving Seemed not to move: O world, that’s you! You are but a widened place in the river Where Life looks down and we rejoice for her […]...
23. Grass The living room is overgrown with grass. It has Come up around the furniture. It stretches through The dining room, past the swinging door into the Kitchen. It extends for miles and miles into the Walls. . . There’s treasure in grass, things dropped or put There; a stick of rust that was once a […]...
24. I tie my Hat I crease my Shawl I tie my Hat I crease my Shawl Life’s little duties do precisely As the very least Were infinite to me I put new Blossoms in the Glass And throw the old away I push a petal from my gown That anchored there I weigh The time ’twill be till six o’clock I have so […]...
25. It Is A Spring Afternoon Everything here is yellow and green. Listen to its throat, its earthskin, The bone dry voices of the peepers As they throb like advertisements. The small animals of the woods Are carrying their deathmasks Into a narrow winter cave. The scarecrow has plucked out His two eyes like diamonds And walked into the village. The […]...
26. Notice What This Poem Is Not Doing The light along the hills in the morning Comes down slowly, naming the trees White, then coasting the ground for stones to nominate. Notice what this poem is not doing. A house, a house, a barn, the old Quarry, where the river shrugs How much of this place is yours? Notice what this poem is […]...
27. From the Bush The Channel fog has lifted – And see where we have come! Round all the world we’ve drifted, A hundred years from “home”. The fields our parents longed for – Ah! we shall ne’er know how – The wealth that they were wronged for We’ll see as strangers now! The Dover cliffs have passed on […]...
28. The Trifler Death’s the lover that I’d be taking; Wild and fickle and fierce is he. Small’s his care if my heart be breaking- Gay young Death would have none of me. Hear them clack of my haste to greet him! No one other my mouth had kissed. I had dressed me in silk to meet him- […]...
29. Alone, Looking for Blossoms Along the River The sorrow of riverside blossoms inexplicable, And nowhere to complain I’ve gone half crazy. I look up our southern neighbor. But my friend in wine Gone ten days drinking. I find only an empty bed. A thick frenzy of blossoms shrouding the riverside, I stroll, listing dangerously, in full fear of spring. Poems, wine even […]...
30. A Myth A FLOATING, a floating Across the sleeping sea, All night I heard a singing bird Upon the topmast tree. “Oh, came you from the isles of Greece Or from the banks of Seine; Or off some tree in forests free, Which fringe the western main?” “I came not off the old world Nor yet from […]...
31. My River runs to thee My River runs to thee Blue Sea! Wilt welcome me? My River wait reply Oh Sea look graciously I’ll fetch thee Brooks From spotted nooks Say Sea Take Me!...
32. Searching These quiet Autumn days, My soul, like Noah’s dove, on airy wings Goes out and searches for the hidden things Beyond the hills of haze. With mournful, pleading cries, Above the waters of the voiceless sea That laps the shore of broad Eternity, Day after day, it flies, Searching, but all in vain, For some […]...
33. The Voices The rich and fortunate do well to keep silent, For no one cares to know who and what they are. But those in need must reveal themselves, Must say: I am blind, Or: I’m on the verge of going blind, Or: nothing goes well with me on earth, Or: I have a sickly child, Or: […]...
34. What Lips My Lips Have Kissed, And Where, And Why (Sonnet XLIII) What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why, I have forgotten, and what arms have lain Under my head till morning; but the rain Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh Upon the glass and listen for reply, And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain For unremembered lads that […]...
35. River Moons THE DOUBLE moon, one on the high back drop of the west, one on the curve of the river face, The sky moon of fire and the river moon of water, I am taking these home in a basket, hung on an elbow, such a teeny weeny elbow, in my head. I saw them last […]...
36. Some Like Poetry Write it. Write. In ordinary ink On ordinary paper: they were given no food, They all died of hunger. “All. How many? It’s a big meadow. How much grass For each one?” Write: I don’t know. History counts its skeletons in round numbers. A thousand and one remains a thousand, As though the one had […]...
37. Know You The River NEar To Grez KNOW you the river near to Grez, A river deep and clear? Among the lilies all the way, That ancient river runs to-day From snowy weir to weir. Old as the Rhine of great renown, She hurries clear and fast, She runs amain by field and town From south to north, from up to down, […]...
38. Ford o' Kabul River Kabul town’s by Kabul river Blow the bugle, draw the sword There I lef’ my mate for ever, Wet an’ drippin’ by the ford. Ford, ford, ford o’ Kabul river, Ford o’ Kabul river in the dark! There’s the river up and brimmin’, an’ there’s ‘arf a squadron swimmin’ ‘Cross the ford o’ Kabul river […]...
39. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
40. Lover's Gifts IV: She Is Near to My Heart She is near to my heart as the meadow-flower to the earth; she is Sweet to me as sleep is to tired limbs. My love for her is my life Flowing in its fullness, like a river in autumn flood, running with Serene abandonment. My songs are one with my love, like the murmur Of […]...