Frank Bidart Poems (12 Poems)
Love Incarnate (Frank Bidart Poem)
(Dante, Vita Nuova) To all those driven berserk or humanized by love this is offered, for I need help deciphering my dream. When we love our lord is LOVE. When I recall that at the fourth hour of the night, … Continue reading
Overheard Through The Walls Of The Invisible City (Frank Bidart Poem)
. . . telling those who swarm around him his desire is that an appendage from each of them fill, invade each of his orifices,- repeating, chanting, Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh yeah Oh yeah until, as if … Continue reading
Self-Portrait, 1969 (Frank Bidart Poem)
He’s still young–; thirty, but looks younger– or does he?… In the eyes and cheeks, tonight, turning in the mirror, he saw his mother,– puffy; angry; bewildered… Many nights, now, when he stares there, he gets angry:– something unfulfilled there, … Continue reading
To The Dead (Frank Bidart Poem)
What I hope (when I hope) is that we’ll see each other again,– . . . and again reach the VEIN in which we loved each other . . It existed. It existed. There is a NIGHT within the NIGHT,– … Continue reading
California Plush (Frank Bidart Poem)
The only thing I miss about Los Angeles is the Hollywood Freeway at midnight, windows down and radio blaring bearing right into the center of the city, the Capitol Tower on the right, and beyond it, Hollywood Boulevard blazing –pimps, … Continue reading
For The Twentieth Century (Frank Bidart Poem)
Bound, hungry to pluck again from the thousand technologies of ecstasy boundlessness, the world that at a drop of water rises without boundaries, I push the PLAY button:- …Callas, Laurel & Hardy, Szigeti you are alive again,- the slow movement … Continue reading
Guilty Of Dust (Frank Bidart Poem)
up or down from the infinite C E N T E R B R I M M I N G at the winking rim of time the voice in my head said LOVE IS THE DISTANCE BETWEEN YOU AND WHAT … Continue reading
Homo Faber (Frank Bidart Poem)
Whatever lies still uncarried from the abyss within me as I die dies with me. (Frank Bidart)
If I Could Mourn Like A Mourning Dove (Frank Bidart Poem)
It is what recurs that we believe, your face not at one moment looking sideways up at me anguished or elate, but the old words welling up by gravity rearranged: two weeks before you died in pain worn out, after … Continue reading
Adolescence (Frank Bidart Poem)
He stared up into my eyes with a look I can almost see now. He had that look in his eyes that bore right into mine. I could sense that he knew I was envious of what he was doing-; … Continue reading
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