George Oppen - Town, a town
Town, a town,
But location
Over which the sun as it comes to it;
Which cools, houses and lamp-posts,
during the night, with the roads—
Inhabited partly by those
Who have been born here,
Houses built—. From a train one sees
him in the morning, his morning;
Him in the afternoon, straightening—
People everywhere, time and the work
pauseless:
One moves between reading and re-reading,
The shape is a moment.
From a crowd a white powdered face,
Eyes and mouth making three—
Awaited—locally—a date.
*
William Carlos Williams - The Botticellian Trees
The alphabet of
the trees
is fading in the
song of the leaves
the crossing
bars of the thin
letters that spelled
winter
and the cold
have been illuminated
with
pointed green
by the rain and sun—
The strict simple
principles of
straight branches
are being modified
by pinched-out
ifs of color, devout
conditions
the smiles of love—
. . . . . .
until the script
sentences
move as a woman's
limbs under cloth
and praise from secrecy
quick with desire
love's ascendancy
in summer—
In summer the song
sings itself
above the muffled words—
*
Gerard Manley Hopkins - Spelt From Sibyl's Leaves
EARNEST, earthless, equal, attuneable, ' vaulty, voluminous, … stupendous
Evening strains to be tíme’s vást, ' womb-of-all, home-of-all, hearse-of-all night.
Her fond yellow hornlight wound to the west, ' her wild hollow hoarlight hung to the height
Waste; her earliest stars, earl-stars, ' stárs principal, overbend us,
Fíre-féaturing heaven. For earth ' her being has unbound, her dapple is at an end, as-
tray or aswarm, all throughther, in throngs; ' self ín self steedèd and páshed — qúite
Disremembering, dísmémbering ' áll now. Heart, you round me right
With: Óur évening is over us; óur night ' whélms, whélms, ánd will end us.
Only the beak-leaved boughs dragonish ' damask the tool-smooth bleak light; black,
Ever so black on it. Óur tale, O óur oracle! ' Lét life, wáned, ah lét life wind
Off hér once skéined stained véined variety ' upon, áll on twó spools; párt, pen, páck
Now her áll in twó flocks, twó folds — black, white; ' right, wrong; reckon but, reck but, mind
But thése two; wáre of a wórld where bút these ' twó tell, each off the óther; of a rack
Where, selfwrung, selfstrung, sheathe- and shelterless, ' thóughts agaínst thoughts ín groans grínd.
*
Ian Heames - REDUCING LOAD
When dawn unloads
grubby & vermeil
woman of scope
input signal of the white race
it is blue, it is not
a possibility of writingTherefore, goddess
complete angel of calm
of most love, elbowroom and purity
, sky of control
do they open you
do we banquet to make lovelet us thank
the numerous years in majority
time flies timely to my increased eyesthe illusion was similar
troughwater
revenant sun
stupid lucid smoke
Does the memory come to pull out?
*
Young-Hae Chang Heavy Industries - Dakota
*
There's a few more I can't find.
Virgil - Aeneid Book II (in Latin, obv)
Louis Zukofsky's sprawling monolith 'A', which I have read the first few books of
Susan Howe's Articulation Of Sound Forms In Time
...and the staggering Prologomena To A Theodicy by Kenneth Rexroth
Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| Aeneid Book II | 3 |
| The Botticellian Trees | 1 |
| Spelt From Sibyl's Leaves | 1 |
| Town, a town | 0 |
| REDUCING LOAD | 0 |
| Dakota | 0 |
| A | 0 |
| Articulation Of Sound Forms In Time | 0 |
| Prologomena To A Theodicy | 0 |
― a. cole, u thic (acoleuthic), Tuesday, 1 December 2009 13:57 (fifteen years ago)