Cino poem – Ezra Pound poems
Italian Campagna 1309, the open road Bah! I have sung women in three cities, But it is all the same; And I will sing of the sun. Lips, words, and you snare them, Dreams, words, and they are as jewels, Strange spells of old deity, Ravens, nights, allurement: And they are not; Having become […]
Canto XLIX poem – Ezra Pound poems
For the seven lakes, and by no man these verses: Rain; empty river; a voyage, Fire from frozen cloud, heavy rain in the twilight Under the cabin roof was one lantern. The reeds are heavy; bent; and the bamboos speak as if weeping. Autumn moon; hills rise about lakes against sunset Evening is like […]
Canto XIII poem – Ezra Pound poems
Kung walked by the dynastic temple and into the cedar grove, and then out by the lower river, And with him Khieu Tchi and Tian the low speaking And “we are unknown,” said Kung, “You will take up charioteering? “Then you will become known, “Or perhaps I should take up charioterring, or archery? “Or […]
Canto I poem – Ezra Pound poems
And then went down to the ship, Set keel to breakers, forth on the godly sea, and We set up mast and sail on that swart ship, Bore sheep aboard her, and our bodies also Heavy with weeping, and winds from sternward Bore us onward with bellying canvas, Crice’s this craft, the trim-coifed goddess. […]
Cantico del Sole poem – Ezra Pound poems
The thought of what America would be like If the Classics had a wide circulation Troubles my sleep, The thought of what America, The thought of what America,The thought of what America would be like If the Classics had a wide circulation Troubles my sleep. Nunc dimittis, now lettest thou thy servant, Now lettest […]
Before Sleep poem – Ezra Pound poems
The lateral vibrations caress me, They leap and caress me, They work pathetically in my favour, They seek my financial good. She of the spear stands present. The gods of the underworld attend me, O Annubis, These are they of thy company. With a pathetic solicitude they attend me; Undulant, Their realm is the […]
Ballad of the Goodly Fere poem – Ezra Pound poems
Simon Zelotes speaking after the Crucifixion. Fere=Mate, Companion. Ha’ we lost the goodliest fere o’ all For the priests and the gallows tree? Aye lover he was of brawny men, O’ ships and the open sea. When they came wi’ a host to take Our Man His smile was good to see, “First let […]
Ballad for Gloom poem – Ezra Pound poems
For God, our God is a gallant foe That playeth behind the veil. I have loved my God as a child at heart That seeketh deep bosoms for rest, I have loved my God as a maid to man— But lo, this thing is best: To love your God as a gallant foe that […]
And the days are not full enough poem – Ezra Pound poems
And the days are not full enough And the nights are not full enough And life slips by like a field mouse Not shaking the grass *** Ezra Pound Poems by Ezra Pound Ezra PoundEzra Weston Loomis Pound (30 October 1885 […]
Ancient Music poem – Ezra Pound poems
Winter is icummen in, Lhude sing Goddamm. Raineth drop and staineth slop, And how the wind doth ramm! Sing: Goddamm. Skiddeth bus and sloppeth us, An ague hath my ham. Freezeth river, turneth liver, Damn you, sing: Goddamm. Goddamm, Goddamm, ’tis why I am, Goddamm, So ‘gainst the winter’s balm. Sing goddamm, damm, sing […]
An Immorality poem – Ezra Pound poems
Sing we for love and idleness, Naught else is worth the having. Though I have been in many a land, There is naught else in living. And I would rather have my sweet, Though rose-leaves die of grieving, Than do high deeds in Hungary To pass all men’s believing. […]
Alba poem – Ezra Pound poems
As cool as the pale wet leaves of lily-of-the-valley She lay beside me in the dawn. *** Ezra Pound Poems by Ezra Pound Ezra PoundEzra Weston Loomis Pound (30 October 1885 – 1 November 1972) is one of the most influential […]
A Virginal poem – Ezra Pound poems
No, no! Go from me. I have left her lately. I will not spoil my sheath with lesser brightness, For my surrounding air hath a new lightness; Slight are her arms, yet they have bound me straitly And left me cloaked as with a gauze of æther; As with sweet leaves; as with subtle […]
A Pact poem – Ezra Pound poems
I make a pact with you, Walt Whitman– I have detested you long enough. I come to you as a grown child Who has had a pig-headed father; I am old enough now to make friends. It was you that broke the new wood, Now is a time for carving. We have one sap […]
A Girl by Ezra Pound
The tree has entered my hands, The sap has ascended my arms, The tree has grown in my breast- Downward, The branches grow out of me, like arms. Tree you are, Moss you are, You are violets with wind above them. A child – so high – you are, And all this is folly […]
Two Quits And Drum And Elegy Drinkers
A poem by Alan Dugan 1. ON ASPHALT: NO GREENS Quarry out the stone of land, cobble the beach, wall surf, name it “street,” allow no ground or green cover for animal sins, but let opacity of sand be glass to keep the heat outside, the senses in. Then, when time’s Drunk, reeling to […]
Two Quits And A Drum And Elegy For Drinkers
A poem by Alan Dugan 1. ON ASPHALT: NO GREENS Quarry out the stone of land, cobble the beach, wall surf, name it “street,” allow no ground or green cover for animal sins, but let opacity of sand be glass to keep the heat outside, the senses in. Then, when time’s Drunk, reeling to […]
To Sayf Al Dawla
A poem by Alan Dugan by Al Mutanabbi Resolutions are measured against those who make them; generosity in accordance with the giver. *** Littleness is magnified by small men, while grandeur is deprecated by the great. *** Sayf al-Dawla imposes upon the army his will, yet seasoned armies […]
Swing Shift Blues
A poem by Alan Dugan What is better than leaving a bar in the middle of the afternoon besides staying in it or not having gone into it in the first place because you had a decent woman to be with? The air smells particularly fresh after the stale beer and piss smells. You can […]
Remembering An Account Executive
A poem by Alan Dugan He had a back office in his older brother’s advertising agency and understood the human asshole. He turned his father’s small inheritance over and over on hemorrhoid ads between three-hour lunches at the Plaza every day and cocktails at five-thirty with different dressy women waiting in our front office. […]
Prison Song
A poem by Alan Dugan The skin ripples over my body like moon-wooed water, rearing to escape me. Where could it find another animal as naked as the one it hates to cover? Once it told me what was happening outside, who was attacking, who caressing, and what the air was doing to feed […]
Portrait From The Infantry
A poem by Alan Dugan He smelled bad and was red-eyed with the miseries of being scared while sleepless when he said this: “I want a private woman, peace and quiet, and some green stuff in my pocket. Fuck the rest.” Pity the underwear and socks, long burnt, of an accomplished murderer, oh God, […]
Plague Of Dead Sharks
A poem by Alan Dugan Who knows whether the sea heals or corrodes? The wading, wintered pack-beasts of the feet slough off, in spring, the dead rind of the shoes’ leather detention, the big toe’s yellow horn shines with a natural polish, and the whole person seems to profit. The opposite appears when dead […]
On Looking For Models
A poem by Alan Dugan The trees in time have something else to do besides their treeing. What is it. I’m a starving to death man myself, and thirsty, thirsty by their fountains but I cannot drink their mud and sunlight to be whole. I do not understand these presences that drink for months in […]
On The Civil War On The East Coast Of The United States Of North America 1860 64
A poem by Alan Dugan Because of the unaccountable spirit of the troops oh we were marched as we were never marched before and flanked them off from home. Stupid Meade was after them, head on to tail, but we convinced him, finally, to flank, flank, cut off their head. He finally understood, the […]
On Hurricane Jackson
A poem by Alan Dugan Now his nose’s bridge is broken, one eye will not focus and the other is a stray; trainers whisper in his mouth while one ear listens to itself, clenched like a fist; generally shadowboxing in a smoky room, his mind hides like the aching boys who lost a contest […]
On Being A Householder
A poem by Alan Dugan I live inside of a machine or machines. Every time one goes off another starts. Why don’t I go outside and sleep on the ground. It is because I’m scared of the open night and stars looking down at me as God’s eyes, full of questions; and when I […]
On A Seven Day Diary
A poem by Alan Dugan Oh I got up and went to work and worked and came back home and ate and talked and went to sleep. Then I got up and went to work and worked and came back home from work and ate and slept. Then I got up and went to […]
Nomenclature
A poem by Alan Dugan My mother never heard of Freud and she decided as a little girl that she would call her husband Dick no matter what his first name was and did. He called her Ditty. They called me Bud, and our generic names amused my analyst. That must, she said, explain the […]
Monologue Of A Commercial Fisherman
A poem by Alan Dugan “If you work a body of water and a body of woman you can take fish out of one and children out of the other for the two kinds of survival. The fishing is good, both kinds are adequate in pleasures and yield, but the hard work and the […]
Internal Migration On Being On Tour
A poem by Alan Dugan As an American traveler I have to remember not to get actionably mad about the way things are around here. Tomorrow I’ll be a thousand miles away from the way it is around here. I will keep my temper, I will not kill the dog next door, nor will […]
Internal Migration Being Tour
A poem by Alan Dugan As an American traveler I have to remember not to get actionably mad about the way things are around here. Tomorrow I’ll be a thousand miles away from the way it is around here. I will keep my temper, I will not kill the dog next door, nor will […]
How We Heard The Name
A poem by Alan Dugan The river brought down dead horses, dead men and military debris, indicative of war or official acts upstream, but it went by, it all goes by, that is the thing about the river. Then a soldier on a log went by. He seemed drunk and we asked him Why had […]
Fabrication Of Ancestors
A poem by Alan Dugan For old Billy Dugan, shot in the ass in the Civil War, my father said. The old wound in my ass has opened up again, but I am past the prodigies of youth’s campaigns, and weep where I used to laugh in war’s red humors, half in love with […]
Elegy
A poem by Alan Dugan I know but will not tell you, Aunt Irene, why there are soap suds in the whiskey: Uncle Robert had to have A drink while shaving. Poetry Monster – Home A few random poems: External links Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry […]
Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton
A poem by Alan Dugan The first and last time I met my ex-lover Anne Sexton was at a protest poetry reading against some anti-constitutional war in Asia when some academic son of a bitch, to test her reputation as a drunk, gave her a beer glass full of wine after our reading. She drank […]
Civil War East Coast United States North America 1860 64
A poem by Alan Dugan Because of the unaccountable spirit of the troops oh we were marched as we were never marched before and flanked them off from home. Stupid Meade was after them, head on to tail, but we convinced him, finally, to flank, flank, cut off their head. He finally understood, the […]
Against A Sickness To The Female Double Principle God
A poem by Alan Dugan She said: “I’m god and all of this and that world and love garbage and slaughter all the time and spring once a year. Once a year I like to love. You can adjust to the discipline or not, and your sacrificial act called ‘Fruitfulness in Decay’ would be […]
A Young Soul
A poem by Alan Dugan by Al Mutanabbi A young soul in my ageing body plays, Though time’s sharp blades my weary visage raze. *** Hard biter in a toothless mouth is she, The will may wane, but she a winner stays. *** Spare me to win glory’s […]
Victory
A poem by Adrienne Cecile Rich (1929 – 2012) Something spreading underground won’t speak to us under skin won’t declare itself not all life-forms want dialogue with the machine-gods in their drama hogging down the deep bush clear-cutting refugees from ancient or transient villages into our opportunistic fervor to search crazily for a host […]