Larry Levis Poems
|4.||Elegy With A Chimneysweep Falling Inside It||4/20/2010|
|8.||The Future Of Hands||4/20/2010|
|9.||The Poet At Seventeen||4/20/2010|
|11.||The Oldest Living Thing In L.A.||4/20/2010|
|13.||Elegy For Poe With The Music Of A Carnival Inside It||4/20/2010|
|14.||As It Begins With A Brush Stroke On A Snare Drum||4/20/2010|
|16.||Elegy For Whatever Had A Pattern In It||4/20/2010|
|17.||Elegy With A Bridle In Its Hand||4/20/2010|
|18.||Readings In French||1/20/2003|
|19.||The Clearing Of The Land: An Epitaph||1/20/2003|
|20.||Those Graves In Rome||1/13/2003|
|21.||For Zbigniew Herbert, Summer, 1971, Los Angeles||1/20/2003|
|22.||The Widening Spell Of The Leaves||1/20/2003|
|23.||In A Country||1/20/2003|
|24.||Anastasia & Sandman||1/20/2003|
|25.||As I Move On With You||1/1/2004|
|26.||The Poem You Asked For||1/13/2003|
The Poem You Asked For
My poem would eat nothing.
I tried giving it water
but it said no,
Day after day,
I held it up to the llight,
turning it over,
but it only pressed its lips
more tightly together.
It grew sullen, like a toad
through with being teased.
I offered it money,
my clothes, my car with a full tank.
But the poem stared at the floor.
Finally I cupped it in
my hands, and carried it gently
out into the soft air, into the
evening traffic, wondering how
to end things between us.
In A Country
My love and I are inventing a country, which we
can already see taking shape, as if wheels were
passing through yellow mud. But there is a prob-
lem: if we put a river in the country, it will thaw
and begin flooding. If we put the river on the bor-
der, there will be trouble. If we forget about the
river, there will be no way out. There is already a
sky over that country, waiting for clouds or smoke.
Birds have flown into it, too. Each evening more