How Much Earth
by Philip Levine
Torn into light, you woke wriggling
on a woman’s palm. Halved, quartered,
shredded to the wind, you were the life
that thrilled along the underbelly
of a stone. Stilled in the frozen pond
you rinsed heaven with a sigh.
How much earth is a man.
A wall fies down and roses
rush from its teeth; in the fists
of the hungry, cucumbers sleep
their lives away, under your nails
the ocean moans in its bed.
How much earth.
The great ice fields slip
and the broken veins of an eye
startle under light, a hand is planted
and the grave blooms upward
in sunlight and walks the roads.
End of the poem
15 random poems
- Visiting a Dead Man on a Summer Day by Marge Piercy
- Sonnet 33: Full many a glorious morning have I seen by William Shakespeare
- Town Planning Agencies by Tilottama Chatterjee
- Afterwards by Thomas Hardy
- A Lyric to Mirth by Robert Herrick
- Motel Seedy by Thomas Lux
- Джон Мильтон – О Шекспире
- Impresa by Satish Verma
- A Little Song poem – Amy Lowell poems | Poems and Poetry
- For A Fatherless Son by Sylvia Plath
- The Ringlet poem – Lord Alfred Tennyson poems
- Forgotten Promises by Rixa White
- Recollection
- A Girl’s Garden by Robert Frost
- Thou and You poem – Alexander Pushkin
Some external links:
Duckduckgo.com – the alternative in the US
Quant.com – a search engine from France, and also an alternative, at least for Europe
Yandex – the Russian search engine (it’s probably the best search engine for image searches).
Philip Levine ( 1928 – 2015) was an American poet best known for his poems about working-class Detroit. He taught for more than thirty years in the English department of California State University, Fresno and held teaching positions at other universities as well. He served on the Board of Chancellors of the Academy of American Poets from 2000 to 2006, and was appointed Poet Laureate of the United States for 2011–2012