Posts Tagged ‘ sun ’

for common tones in simple time by john adams

m i d e l s  for a minamalist

                                                    poet 

,so in a, p i a n o

                                                    is

a special interior held

                                                   from thee.

—————————————————

what sudden leap

from here to there

what sudden leap

a hare

a small wind blows

a small wind blows

a small window closed

O’er

1

Out on all

We or all

In

Now

In

Now

Is.

 

2

Or

Ending

Is

When now

All is,

Ending

Is.

 

3

The end is

Is

Ending

Is

Undoing

All, or

Undoing

Is

Ending

All.

 

4

Disembowel

Or

Disavowal

All

Or

Disembowel

All.

 

5

Language

Is,

Movement

Is

And

And

Our

Thought

Consuming

Thoughts,

A candled death.

 

6

On

All

Our

Or

Is

On

All

            Else

Believing,

Who is left?

To

See

Is

            All.

 

 

 

Ezra Pound 2

the tree is,

                 grass is,

the sky is not moving

and

wind

everywhere.

i.xv

 

 

I am more belly

Than ambition,

More arms and

Legs than will.

At all finger tips I lead the sun through the window.

 

See.

The Richest City (A poem about my grandmother for Forough Farrokhzad)

What gives itself to the dawn

Is taken back at night

And given tomorrow again.

What is given to the dawn

Is taken from the night

And what is given to the light

Is given back to the dark

And whatever is taken from one

Is given to the other.

 

Your hands and feet and cheek

Have not withered.

Your arms and legs, my love,

Have not withered.

 

I have followed the soft line

Of your long neck,

Overcome with awe and curiosity.

I have followed the soft line

Of your neck

As if I were on the edge of an ancient city,

A rich city

That is only real

When I press my hand to its side and

It walls rise before me.

 

And wherever I have gone

I have not come back from

Completely.

My love, I have dragged my hand

Through those cities

And pulled you from the walls and streets.

My love, I have

Pulled you from the dirt of those cities

And I do not have to hold your hands

For your hands to be in my hands.

 

Who is it now that rubs their hand against my cheeks

When I am crying?

Who is it now that rubs my cheeks

When I am crying?

 

And if they wilt,

Your hands,

If they wilt

Then they wilt like the flowers wilt.

They wilt like the flowers wilt.

Becoming more, turned against themselves

And pulled away from the light and

Given to the darkness again.

 

What is taken from the light

Is given to the dark

And whatever is taken form one

Is given to the other.

 

Your long neck

Does not wilt.

Your long neck and side

Does not wilt.

But if they do

Then it is like a flower

That has crawled back inside itself.

If they do

Then it is like the flower.

 

Then it is like the dawn

That is taken from the night.

Then it is like my hand

That pulls you from the walls of a rich city.

And wherever I have gone

I have not come back from completely.

And wherever I am

I am not there completely.

Because I cannot,

Because I cannot stop.

Babbit’s Form

Oh

all the evening

sun is,

is, (raining) is

all our evenings_this

coming.

sleeping against a tree

inside another room.

ah

and i can not

i can not

describe your soul,

 

which

is like a flower

unfolding

on my tongue.