Thou Shalt Not Kill (Kenneth Rexroth Poems)
A Memorial for Dylan Thomas IThey are murdering all the young men.For half a century now, every day,They have hunted them ...
A Memorial for Dylan Thomas IThey are murdering all the young men.For half a century now, every day,They have hunted them ...
SPRING, COAST RANGEThe glow of my campfire is dark red and flameless,The circle of white ash widens around it.I get ...
The stars of the Great Bear drift apartThe Horse and the Rider together northeastwardAlpha and Omega asunderThe others diverselyThere are ...
For a month now, wandering over the Sierras,A poem had been gathering in my mind,Details of significance and rhythm,The way ...
The mountain road ends here,Broken away in the chasm whereThe bridge washed out years ago.The first scarlet larkspur glittersIn the ...
You were a girl of satin and gauzeNow you are my mountain and waterfall companion.Long ago I read those lines ...
Our canoe idles in the idling currentOf the tree and vine and rush enclosedBackwater of a torpid midwestern stream;Revolves slowly, ...
The summer of nineteen eighteenI read The Jungle and TheResearch Magnificent. That fallMy father died and my auntTook me to ...
Under the orchards, underThe tree strung vines, little blueFigures are making hay, highOn the steep hillsides abovePalladio's drowsy villasAnd Tiepolo's ...
Again tonight I read "Before Disaster,"The tense memento of a willThat's striven thirty years to masterOne chaos with one spirit's ...
Somebody has given myBaby daughter a box ofOld poker chips to play with.Today she hands me one whileI am sitting ...
It is spring once more in the Coast RangeWarm, perfumed, under the Easter moon.The flowers are back in their places.The ...
I don't mind the human race.I've got pretty used to themIn these past twenty-five years.I don't mind if they sit ...
There are sparkles of rain on the brightHair over your forehead;Your eyes are wet and your lipsWet and cold, your ...
I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn,The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open.The soft breeze from ...
Strong ankled, sun burned, almost naked,The daughters of CaliforniaEducate reluctant humanists;Drive into their skulls with tennis ballsThe unhappy realizationThat nature ...
It rains on the roofsAs it rains in my poemsUnder the thunderWe fit together like partsOf a magic puzzleTwelve winds ...
A thing unknown for years,Rain falls heavily in June,On the ripe cherries, and onThe half cut hay.Above the glitteringGrey water ...
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