Last Word To Childhood (A. S. J. Tessimond Poems)
Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased As my bones have grown, my height increased. Though I shiver in snow of dreams, ...
Ice-cold fear has slowly decreased As my bones have grown, my height increased. Though I shiver in snow of dreams, ...
Stairs fly as straight as hawks; Or else in spirals, curve out of curve, pausing At a ledge to poise ...
Music curls In the stone shells Of the arches, and rings Their stone bells. Music lips Each cold groove Of ...
"Why can't you say what you mean straight out in prose?" Well, say it yourself: then say "It's that, but ...
Clothes: to compose The furtive, lone Pillar of bone To some repose. To let hands shirk Utterance behind A pocket's ...
Is it sounds converging, Sounds nearing, Infringement, impingement, Impact, contact With surfaces of the sounds Or surfaces without the sounds: ...
The tube lift mounts, sap in a stem, And blossoms its load, a black, untidy rose. The fountain of the ...
Wouldn't you say, Wouldn't you say: one day, With a little more time or a little more patience, one might ...
We are a people living in shells and moving Crablike; reticent, awkward, deeply suspicious; Watching the world from a corner ...
We expected the violin's finger on the upturned nerve; Its importunate cry, too laxly curved: And you drew us an ...
Cats no less liquid than their shadows Offer no angles to the wind. They slip, diminished, neat through loopholes Less ...
Suddenly, desperately I thought, "No, never In millions of minutes Can I for one second Calm-leaving my own self Like ...
The sun, a heavy spider, spins in the thirsty sky. The wind hides under cactus leaves, in doorway corners. Only ...
One day people will touch and talk perhaps easily, And loving be natural as breathing and warm as sunlight, And ...
It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least ...
Architects plant their imagination, weld their poems on rock, Clamp them to the skidding rim of the world and anchor ...
The birds' shrill fluting Beats on the pink blind, Pierces the pink blind At whose edge fumble the sun's Fingers ...
Blame us for these who were cradled and rocked in our chaos; Watching our sidelong watching, fearing our fear; Playing ...
Green sea-tarnished copper And sea-tarnished gold Of cupolas. Sea-runnelled streets Channelled by salt air That wears the white stone. The ...
Serrations of chimneys Stone-black perforate Velvet-black dark. A tree coils in core of darkness. My swinging Hands Incise the night. ...
Within the church The solemn priests advance, And the sunlight, stained by the heavy windows, Dyes a yet richer red ...
In love's dances, in love's dances One retreats and one advances, One grows warmer and one colder, One more hesitant, ...
1 (Windless Summer) Between the glass panes of the sea are pressed Patterns of fronds, and the bronze tracks of ...
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