LIPS half-willing in a doorway.Lips half-singing at a window.Eyes half-dreaming in the walls.Feet half-dancing in a kitchen.Even the clocks half-yawn the hoursAnd the farmers make half-answers.
THE HORSE’S name was Remorse.There were people said, “Gee, what a nag!”And they were Edgar Allan Poe bugs and soThey called him Remorse. When he was a geldingHe flashed his heels…
Maybe he believes me, maybe not.Maybe I can marry him, maybe not. Maybe the wind on the prairie,The wind on the sea, maybe,Somebody, somewhere, maybe can tell. I will lay…
THE SINS of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet nor crimson. The sins of Kalamazoo are a convict gray, a dishwater drab. And the people who sin the sins of Kalamazoo are neither scarlet…
I Know a Jew fish crier down on Maxwell Street with avoice like a north wind blowing over corn stubblein January.He dangles herring before prospective customers evincinga joy identical with…
THIN sheets of blue smoke among white slabs … near the shingle mill … winter morning.Falling of a dry leaf might be heard … circular steel tears through a log.Slope…
All day long in fog and wind,The waves have flung their beating crestsAgainst the palisades of adamant. My boy, he went to sea, long and long ago, Curls of brown…
THE SIX month childFresh from the tubWriggles in our hands.This is our fish child.Give her a nickname: Slippery.
Open the door now.Go roll up the collar of your coatTo walk in the changing scarf of mist. Tell your sins here to the pearl fogAnd know for once a…