What would they say if they knew
I sit for two months
on six lines of poetry?
Can knowledge be conveyed that isn't felt?
But if transport's the problem -
they tell me get a job and earn yourself
an automobile-I'd rather collect my parts
as I go: chair, desk, house
and crankshaft Shakespeare.
Generator boy, Paul, love is carried
if it's held.
Mots clés for-paul-and-other-poems
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I was the solitary plover
a pencil
for a wing-bone
From the secret notes
I must tilt
upon the pressure
execute and adjust
In us sea-air rhythm
"We live by the urgent wave
of the verse
Mots clés poetry
I rose from marsh mud
algae, equisetum, willows,
sweet green, noisy
birds and frogs.
Mots clés sweet green algae marsh mud niedecker willows
Poet's Work"
Grandfather
advised me:
Learn a trade
I learned
to sit at desk
and condense
No layoffs
from this
condensery
In the great snowfall before the bomb"
In the great snowfall before the bomb
colored yule tree lights
windows, the only glow for contemplation
along this road
I worked the print shop
right down among em
the folk from whom all poetry flows
and dreadfully much else.
I was Blondie
I carried my bundles of hog feeder price lists
down by Larry the Lug,
I'd never get anywhere
because I'd never had suction,
pull, you know, favor, drag,
well-oiled protection.
I heard their rehashed radio barbs—
more barbarous among hirelings
as higher-ups grow more corrupt.
But what vitality! The women hold jobs—
clean house, cook, raise children, bowl
and go to church.
What would they say if they knew
I sit for two months on six lines
of poetry?
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