Jaguar (Lola Ridge Poems)
Nasal intonations of lightand clicking tongues * * *publicity of windowsstoning me with pent-up cries * * *smells of abattoirs ...
Nasal intonations of lightand clicking tongues * * *publicity of windowsstoning me with pent-up cries * * *smells of abattoirs ...
We are blessed hordes of freely roaming Scythians,More than anything we value freedom.Having quit the castle of Olvia with its ...
Being you, you cut your poetry from wood.The boiling of an egg is heavy art.You come upon it as an ...
Alas, hardpressed the whirling orbsAnd swift Titan hie fleeting hours,And cleave delights with woe avidDeath might - fast on us, ...
Willful and avid mind,-The Russian mind is dangerous as flame:So unrestrainable, so clear,A happy and a gloomy mind.Like the steady ...
These days which, like yourself,Seem empty and effacedHave avid roots that delveTo work deep in the waste. (James Merrill)
Proemion.Immeasurable Earth!Through the loud vast and populacy of Heaven,Tempested with gold schools of ponderous orbs,That cleav'st with deep-revolting harmoniesPassage perpetual, ...
KNOW this : that through all time past Love hasbeenSo sweet that none could perish and not liveForthwith again.Ere Persia ...
Oh, we might have a marvellous city Were we only less keen on cashLess avid for things -- more's the ...
LEADER no more, be judged of us! Hailed Chief, and loved, of yore -- Youth, and the faith of youth, ...
Reject me not if I should say to you I do forget the sounding of your voice, I do forget ...
In the mid August, in the second year of my First Polar Expedition, the snow and ice of winter almost ...
As a child I played in the same frosty fields barefoot as my no lesser loved classmates, whom we challenged ...
I remember, it was a morning, in summer, The window was half-open, I drew near, I could see my father ...
I burned my life, that I may find A passion wholly of the mind, Thought divorced from eye and bone ...
THE AUTOPSY OF TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA This is the autopsy of Trout Fishing in America as if Trout Fishing ...
Calmly we walk through this April's day, Metropolitan poetry here and there, In the park sit pauper and rentier, The ...
"little soul, little flirting, little perverse one where are you off to now? little wan one, firm one little exposed ...
I I took the clock down from the shelf; "At eight," said I, "I shoot myself." It lacked a minute ...
(After Pushkin) Look at the bare wood hand-waxed floor and long White dressing-gown, the good child's writing-desk And passionate cold ...
The memory of you emerges from the night around me. The river mingles its stubborn lament with the sea. Deserted ...
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