WANDERING oversea dreamer,Hunting and hoarse, Oh daughter and mother,Oh daughter of ashes and mother of blood,Child of the hair let down, and tears,Child of the cross in the southAnd the…

I AM making a Cartoon of a Woman. She is the People.    She is the Great Dirty Mother.And Many Children hang on her Apron, crawl at her    Feet, snuggle at her Breasts.

I TELL them where the wind comes from,Where the music goes when the fiddle is in the box.  Kids-I saw one with a proud chin, a sleepyhead,And the moonline creeping white…

I REMEMBER here by the fire,In the flickering reds and saffrons,They came in a ramshackle tub,Pilgrims in tall hats,Pilgrims of iron jaws,Drifting by weeks on beaten seas,And the random chapters…

AFTER the last red sunset glimmer,Black on the line of a low hill rise,Formed into moving shadows, I sawA plowboy and two horses lined against the gray,Plowing in the dusk…

I am singing to youSoft as a man with a dead child speaks;Hard as a man in handcuffs,Held where he cannot move:      Under the sunAre sixteen million men,Chosen for…

FLANDERS, the name of a place, a country of people,Spells itself with letters, is written in books. “Where is Flanders?” was asked one time,Flanders known only to those who lived…

HERE is a face that says half-past seven the same way whether a murder or a wedding goes on, whether a funeral or a picnic crowd passes.A tall one I…

THE WISHES on this child’s mouthCame like snow on marsh cranberries;The tamarack kept something for her;The wind is ready to help her shoes.The north has loved her; she will beA…

To Certain Poets About to Die Take your fill of intimate remorse, perfumed sorrow,Over the dead child of a millionaire,And the pity of Death refusing any check on the bankWhich…