Kenneth Rexroth Poems
|1.||Confusion of the Senses||7/7/2015|
|2.||Sottoportico San Zaccaria||4/7/2010|
|3.||Toward An Organic Philosophy||4/7/2010|
|4.||The Wheel Revolves||4/7/2010|
|6.||Vitamins And Roughage||4/7/2010|
|7.||Climbing Milestone Mountain, August 22, 1937||4/7/2010|
|8.||On What Planet||12/22/2011|
|10.||Yin And Yang||4/7/2010|
|12.||A Lesson In Geography||4/7/2010|
|16.||Lyell’s Hypothesis Again||4/7/2010|
|17.||Falling Leaves And Early Snow||12/22/2011|
|19.||Between Two Wars||12/22/2011|
|21.||Thou Shalt Not Kill||4/7/2010|
|22.||The Bad Old Days||4/7/2010|
|24.||Gic To Har||1/20/2003|
Gic To Har
It is late at night, cold and damp
The air is filled with tobacco smoke.
My brain is worried and tired.
I pick up the encyclopedia,
The volume GIC to HAR,
It seems I have read everything in it,
So many other nights like this.
I sit staring empty-headed at the article Grosbeak,
Listening to the long rattle and pound
Of freight cars and switch engines in the distance.
Suddenly I remember
Coming home from swimming
In Ten Mile Creek,
Over the long moraine in the early summer evening,
My hair wet, smelling of waterweeds and mud.
I remember a sycamore in ...
I pass your home in a slow vermilion dawn,
The blinds are drawn, and the windows are open.
The soft breeze from the lake
Is like your breath upon my cheek.
All day long I walk in the intermittent rainfall.
I pick a vermilion tulip in the deserted park,
Bright raindrops cling to its petals.
At five o'clock it is a lonely color in the city.
I pass your home in a rainy evening,