#Americans
Yeats died Saturday in France. Freedom from his animal Has come at last in alien Nice, His heart beat separate from his w… He knows at last the old abyss
(After Rilke) The city floats no longer like a b… To hook the nimble darting summer… The glazed and brittle palaces pul… And glitter. Summer’s garden sway…
THE MIND IS AN ANCIEN… The mind is a city like London, Smoky and populous: it is a capita… Like Rome, ruined and eternal, Marked by the monuments which no o…
“the cure of souls.” Henry James The radiant soda of the seashore f… Fun, foam and freedom. The sea la… The Shaven sand. And the light sw… On self-destroying waves.
At four years Nature is mountaino… Mysterious, and submarine. Even A city child knows this, hearing t… Rumor underground. Between the gr… Dropping his penny, he learned out…
I am a poet of the Hudson River a… the lights, the stars, and the bri… I am also by self-appointment the… —of the peoples’ hearts, crossing… to new America.
In memory of D. W. Prall The ghosts of James and Peirce in… At star-pierced midnight, after th… (Episcopalian! palian! the ringing… Stare at me now as if they wish me…
The riches of the poet are equal t… His power is his left hand It is idle weak and precious His poverty is his wealth, a wealt… like Midas Because it is that laz…
(After Valery) O Sea!... ’Tis I, risen from dea… To hear the waves’ harmonious roar And see the galleys, sharp, in daw… Raised from the dark by the rising…
When I was a young man, I loved t… And I called a spade a spade And the only only thing that made… Was to lift the masks at the masqu… I took them off my own face,
Poem Faithful to your commands, o… Beating wings, I studied the roses and the muses of reality… the deceptions and the deceptive e… and all the greened and thomed var…
The beautiful American word, Sure… As I have come into a room, and t… The lamp’s button, and the light b… Certainty where the darkness loome… As I care for what I do not know,…
The common rain had come again Slanting and colorless, pale and a… Fainting falling in the first even… Of the first perception of the act… The long and late light had slowly…
(after Spillane) Let us be aware of the true dark g… Acknowledgeing the cache of the cr… The primitive pure and pwerful pin… private sensitivites
(After Rilke) We cannot know the indescribable f… Where the eyes like apples ripened… His torso has a candelabra’s glow, His gaze, contained as in a mirror…