Owner: In the World Where I Live URL:http://worldwhereilive.squarespace.com Join Date: Sun, 26 Aug 2007 23:49:51 -0500 Rating:0 Site Description: This site is my chance to share my poetry, my favorite poems, and my love of words, word mastery, and the great and aspiring masters of words. Site statistics:Click here
American Mystic 2007-09-20 21:40:26 EidólonsBy Walt Whitman I met a seer,Passing the hues and objects of the world,The fields of art and learning, pleasure, sense, To glean of eidólons. Put in thy chants said he,No more the puzzling hour nor day, nor segments, parts, put in,Put first before the rest as light for all and entrance-song of all, That of eidólons. Ever the dim beginning,Ever the growth, the rounding of the circle,Ever the summit and the merge at last, (to surely start again,) Eidólons! Eidólons! Ever the mutable,Ever materials, changing, crumbling, re-cohering,Ever the ateliers, the factories divine, &nbs Read more:American
, Mystic
Lines Composed above Stanford University 2007-09-17 10:32:09 Variations on the Country Moon By Hank Edson1.By the path I enter beneath the star filled sky ~spread broad and deep with stillness and raised with activity;like so many colors in a black field singing,these seeds shaken on the wind, set weightless and free.And I am here, a small earth person gazing,facing the above
, as if all were flat, or earthbound and shy,the sky, a plane like the horizon, like the hills or even I,my tiny being considering in the night air a point wherescale is transformed by dimension, like this ocean seethingsilently upon my rocklike soul, like my limbs laid bareto the wonder of welcome and I am entranced in breathingand music and growth and these hills blown widefor the generous night is as cool as angels' halos, golden elation,invisible ambrosia to quenchen a dryness inside.From a silent heart in reverence, glee gestures a muted cryand I give thanks with new joy that life is creation.2.To my left a hill rises slightly, a graceful curve Read more:Lines
, University
The Blues of the Metropolis 2007-09-15 07:22:43 Come A Long Way By Michelle Shocked Kicked in his door at 5 AM"I've come for my bike" I told the repo manMy 920's gonna take me far todayYou can travel for miles and never leave L.A.I've come a long wayI've come a long wayI've gone 500 miles todayI've come a long wayI've come along wayAnd never even left L.A.I drive by the Plaza where the gay boys poseStand in their windows wearing no clothesI heard the screams of the dying darkThrough the sweet green icing of MacArthur ParkAnd then I crossed the river into East L.A.Pescado mojado me encontreAnd I've given up on rock 'n rollAnd I'm saving up for nortenoThe river she runs by the railroad tracksI swear I'll never take it backA train, she cries on the midnight hourAll along the Watts TowerOhhhhhhhhhhhI've come a long wayI've come a long wayI've gone 500 miles todayI've come a long wayI've come along wayAnd never even left L.A.I gunned it down to San Pedro BayWatched my ship sa Read more:Blues
, Metropolis
Deep Discourse on Humanity's Relationship to Nature 2007-09-13 13:44:58 Lines Composed a Few Miles above Tintern AbbeyBy William Wordsworth (July 13, 1798) Five years have past; five summers, with the length Of five long winters! and again I hearThese waters, rolling from their mountain-springsWith a soft inland murmur.--Once againDo I behold these steep and lofty cliffs,That on a wild secluded scene impressThoughts of more deep seclusion; and connectThe landscape with the quiet of the sky.The day is come when I again reposeHere, under this dark sycamore, and viewThese plots of cottage-ground, these orchard-tufts,Which at this season, with their unripe fruits,Are clad in one green hue, and lose themselves'Mid groves and copses. Once again I seeThese hedge-rows, hardly hedge-rows, little linesOf sportive wood run wild: these pastoral farms,Green to the very door; and wreaths of smokeSent up, in silence, from among the trees!With some uncertain notice, as might Read more:Discourse
, Relationship
World Where I Live Worldview 2007-09-10 00:36:49 Is It Really Such a Giant Leap? Is it really such a giant leap To unite the heart and mind? To imagine love and logic keep Common cause in what they find? A man upon the moon once raised With one small step all mankind. The simple effort Armstrong praised Gave vision to the blind; To see the Earth from outerspace Read more:World
, Worldview
Smooth Talkin', Tall Walkin' Son of a Gun 2007-09-07 14:57:20 The TakerBy Kris Kristofferson He's a giver, he'll give herthe kind of attention that she's never knownHe's a helper, he'll help herto open the doors that she can't on her ownHe's a lover, he'll love herin ways that she never has been loved beforeAnd he's a getter, he'll get herby gettin her into the world she's been hungerin' for'Cause he's a taker, he'll take herto places and make her fly higher than she's ever dared toHe'll take his time before takin' advantagetakin' her easy and slowAnd after he's taken the body and soulthat she gives him, he'll take her for grantedThen he'll take off and leave hertakin' all of her pride as he goesHe's a charmer, and he'll charm herwith money and manners that I never learnedHe's a leader, and he'll lead heracross pretty bridges he's planning to burnHe's a talker, he'll talk herright off of her feet, but he won't talk for longCause he's a doer, and he'll do herthe way that I neverAnd damned if he won't
Dispossessed Desperados 2007-09-06 09:46:00 The Burglar of Babylon By Elizabeth BishopOn the fair green hills of Rio There grows a fearful stain:The poor who come to Rio And can't go home again.On the hills a million people, A million sparrows, nest,Like a confused migration That's had to light and rest,Building its nests, or houses, Out of nothing at all, or air.You'd think a breath would end them, They perch so lightly there.But they cling and spread like lichen, And people come and come.There's one hill called the Chicken, And one called Catacomb;There's the hill of Kerosene, &nbs
Modern Love 2007-09-03 19:24:28 Personals Poemby Hank EdsonLast week I posted the poem I wrote for my wife for our wedding. This week, I'm posting the poem I included on my personals profile to find her! Welcome to the 21st century when poets blog poetry composed in the pursuit of internet romance.I'm a smart, liberal, funny, engaging, together man who will surprise you, touch your soul, look you in the eye, open the different doors of my heart when you knock on them, give you all the space you need, and independently create my own entertainment without hoarding it all to myself. I'm unrestrained in my smile and my affection. I do not try to conceal my essential goofiyness but am also perfectly capable of being focused, adroit, poised, gracious, serious. Challenge me and I will respond honorably. I am committed to stand against cynicism. I am talented in the sublime and the ridiculous. I believe in social responsibility, childwise play, risks advanced for beauty and truth, and the intim Read more:Modern
Soothing the Savage Breast 2007-09-27 20:09:37 Sonnets to Orpheus, Sonnet 1.1 By Rainer Maria Rilke (tr. Stephen Mitchell) A tree ascended there. Oh pure transcendence!Oh Orpheus Sings! Oh tall tree in the ear!And all things hushed. Yet even in that silencea new beginning, beckoning, change appeared.Creatures of stillness crowded from the brightunbound forest, out of their lairs and nests;and it was not from any dullness, notfrom fear, that they were so quiet in themselves,but from simply listening. Bellow, roar, shriekseemed small inside their hearts. And where there had beenjust a makeshift hut to receive the music,a shelter nailed up out of their darkest longing, with an entryway that shuddered in the wind—you built a temple deep inside their hearing. Read more:Savage
, Breast
Humanity Craft 2007-10-03 11:15:54 Axe Handles By Gary Snyder One afternoon the last week in April Showing Kai how to throw a hatchet One-half turn and it sticks in a stump. He recalls the hatchet-head Without a handle, in the shop And go gets it, and wants it for his own. A broken-off axe handle behind the door Is long enough for a hatchet, We cut it to length and take it With the hatchet head And working hatchet, to the wood block. There I begin to shape the old handle With the hatchet, and the phrase First learned from Ezra Pound Rings in my ears! "When making an axe handle The pattern is not far off." And I say this to Kai "Look: We'll shape the handle By checking the handle Of the axe we cut with—" And he sees. And I hear it again: It's in Lu Ji's We Fu, fourth century A.D. "Essay on Literature" - in the Preface: "In making the handle Of an axe &nb Read more:Craft
Family Values 2007-10-13 17:44:09 Justice And Independence '85 By John Coulgar Mellencamp He was born on the fourth day of JulySo his parents called him Independence DayHe married a girl named Justice who gave birthTo a son called NationThen she walked awayIndependence he would daydream and he'd pretendThat someday him and Justice and Nation wouldGet together againBut Justice held up in a shotgun shackAnd she wouldn't let nobody inSo a Nation cried Oh OhWhen a Nation criesHis tears fall down like missiles from the skiesJustice look into Independence's eyesCan you make everything alrightCan you keep your Nation warm tonight? Well Nation grew up and got himself a reputationCouldn't keep the boy at home no noHe just kept running 'round and 'round and 'round and 'roundIndependence and Justice well they felt so ashamedWhen the Nation fell down they argued who was to blameNation if you'll just come home we'll have this family againOh Nation d Read more:Family
, Values
Disconnection and Torture 2007-10-19 00:20:34 Driving through Minnesota During the Hanoi Bombings by Robert Bly Read more:Torture
Poetry Flash! 2007-10-24 00:39:08 Meanwhile in America By Hank EdsonAlarming news! In from the New Yorker, That the health of poor Poesy has gotten worse! There are many theories and we have from her doctor That what's bad for her heart is free verse. "She was desperate," said her husband, Time, "She had strayed so far that she could not tell If music was carried away in the crime, Elsewhere bound, exerting good, hot hell. Grandson Rap broke in: "What the hammer is happenin? Man, don't jive, Nana, she live, and rhyme thrive Like bongos clappin', hands a slappin', an' fires crackin' At Pop with an edge she give, actin' youn', tryin' to live ~" Then in with a hush ~ the Government Minister To read the last rights: "Whatever must be, must be... Please trust in your will's administrator... Who we will appoint, whose views are not so lusty." That's the story; what can we say? Not much. Our only choice is to become the predator, Not exactly to devour, but only to tou Read more:Poetry
, Flash
Poetic Justice 2007-10-23 23:12:32 Masters of War By Bob Dylan Come you masters of warYou that build all the gunsYou that build the death planesYou that build the big bombsYou that hide behind wallsYou that hide behind desksI just want you to knowI can see through your masksYou that never done nothin'But build to destroyYou play with my worldLike it's your little toyYou put a gun in my handAnd you hide from my eyesAnd you turn and run fartherWhen the fast bullets flyLike Judas of oldYou lie and deceiveA world war can be wonYou want me to believeBut I see through your eyesAnd I see through your brainLike I see through the waterThat runs down my drainYou fasten the triggersFor the others to fireThen you set back and watchWhen the death count gets higherYou hide in your mansionAs young people's bloodFlows out of their bodiesAnd is buried in the mudYou've thrown the worst fearThat can ever be hurledFear to bring childrenInto the worldFor threatening my babyUnborn and unnamedYou ain't worth the bloodThat runs in your ve Read more:Poetic
, Justice
Hard Hearts and Hard Times 2007-10-27 19:11:52 We Can't Make it Hereby James McMurtry Vietnam Vet with a cardboard signSitting there by the left turn lineFlag on the wheelchair flapping in the breezeOne leg missing, both hands freeNo one's paying much mind to himThe V.A. budget's stretched so thinAnd there's more comin' home from the Mideast warWe can't make it here anymoreThat big ol' building was the textile millIt fed our kids and it paid our billsBut they turned us out and they closed the doorsWe can't make it here anymoreSee all those pallets piled up on the loading dockThey're just gonna set there till they rot'Cause there's nothing to ship, nothing to packJust busted concrete and rusted tracksEmpty storefronts around the squareThere's a needle in the gutter and glass everywhereYou don't come down here 'less you're looking to scoreWe can't make it here anymoreThe bar's still open but man it's slowThe tip jar's light and the register's lowThe bartender don't have much to sayThe regular crowd gets thinner e Read more:Hearts
, Times
The Republican Party's Legacy 2007-10-27 18:33:32 These Yet To Be United States By Maya Angelou Tremors of your network cause kings to disappear. Your open mouth in anger makes nations bow in fear. Your bombs can change the seasons, obliterate the spring. What more do you long for ? Why are you suffering ? You control the human lives in Rome and Timbuktu. Lonely nomads wandering owe Telstar to you. Seas shift at your bidding, your mushrooms fill the sky. Why are you unhappy ? Why do your children cry ? They kneel alone in terror with dread in every glance. Their nights ["rights" ? - Schrift nicht lesbar] are threatened daily by a grim inheritance. You dwell in whitened castles with deep and poisoned moats and cannot hear the curses which fill your children's throats. Read more:Republican
, Party
, Legacy
Earthly Sentences 2007-12-06 18:36:10 Adam’s Curse By W.B. YeatsWe sat together at one summer's end, That beautiful mild woman, your close friend, And you and I, and talked of poetry. I said, 'A line will take us hours maybe; Yet if it does not seem a moment's thought, Our stitching and unstitching has been naught. Better go down upon your marrow-bonesAnd scrub a kitchen pavement, or break stonesLike an old pauper, in all kinds of weather; For to articulate sweet sounds togetherIs to work harder than all these, and yetBe thought an idler by the noisy setOf bankers, schoolmasters, and clergymenThe martyrs call the world.' And thereuponThat beautiful mild woman for whose sakeThere's many a one shall find out all
Mystic Trance 2007-12-22 20:18:21 Kubla Khan By Samuel Taylor Coleridge In Xanadu did Kubla KhanA stately pleasure-dome decree:Where Alph, the sacred river, ranThrough caverns measureless to manDown to a sunless sea.So twice five miles of fertile groundWith walls and towers were girdled round:And there were gardens bright with sinuous rills,Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;And here were forests ancient as the hills,Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slantedDown the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!A savage place! as holy and enchantedAs e'er beneath a waning moon was hauntedBy woman wailing for her demon-lover!And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething,As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,A mighty fountain momently was forced:Amid whose swift half-intermitted burstHuge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and everIt flung up momently Read more:Mystic
, Trance
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