A concealed Al-Qaeda bomb
Might wipe out my town and me with it ......…
A moon wet with rainbow ring cannot illumine ..............
An idle poet, here and there, .........................................
And as she ran the meeting windes hir
garments backewarde blue .….......................
Bald heads forgetful of their sins …….............................
Behold her, single in the field, .......................................
Between the brown hands of a server-lad …....................
Beyond my rim of sherry small boys
infiltrate, ....................................
Brodie was alone at
the kitchen table in the big house .......................
“But tell me, ye who in this place are happy, ..................
. . . Degree being vizarded
Th'unworthiest shews as fairly in the mask ...........
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here, ................................
Fear no more the heat of the sun, ..................................
Friend, Hope for the Beloved while you are alive! .........
The glory of the beauty of the morning …...................…
The heavens declare the glory of God ...........................
Historians— those cartographers
of mankind’s battlefields ...….........…
I am: yet what I am none cares or knows, ......................
I believe a leaf of grass is no less than
the journey-work of the stars, .........
I found a ball of grass among the hay …....................……
I hear an army charging upon the land …..................…...
I struck the board, and cry’d, No more …...................….
I that in heill was and gladnèss .......................................
I, too, dislike it: there are things that are
important beyond all this fiddle ............….
Light zigzags across copper roofs
Green shadow and blue …..............….…
Lord God! this was a stone, ............................................
Lord, Thou clèpedest me …..….........................…...……...
The lowest trees have tops, the ant her gall, ...................
Márgarét, áre you gríeving
Over Goldengrove unleaving?..............................
Mock on, mock on, Voltaire, Rousseau …......................
Once, in a finesse of fiddles found I ecstacy, .................
Not I, not I, but the wind that
blows through me …………….....…........
Often rebuked, yet always back returning .....................
See the chariot at hand here of Love,
Wherein my lady rideth ….……....…......
Since I am coming to that Holy room ............................
Stand close around, ye Stygian set ................................
The fascination of what's difficult .................................
There was never a sound beside the wood but one, .......
These little limbs,
These eyes and hands which here I find ...........
This is the place my father loved,
quiet garden in the heart of Paris ..........
This World is not conclusion ………...........................…...
Through Jericho as Jesus came .....................................
We forget, we remember.
Oregon, summer ..................................................
When icicles hang by the wall ........................................
When I have fears that I may cease to be .......................
While my hair was still cut straight
across my forehead ................
Your mind and you are our Sargasso Sea, ......................
Your thighs are appletrees
whose blossoms touch the sky.................................
You straightened; your hands flew to your
head ……..................