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.
For now it had begun breathing,
putting on more and
more hard rings of flesh.
And the poem demanded the food,
it drank up all the water,
beat me and took my money,
tore the faded clothes
off my back,
and walked slowly away,
slicking its hair down.
Said it was going
over to your place.
Larry Levis's Other Poems
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Comments about this poem (Larry Levis by Larry Levis )
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(14 December 1895 – 18 November 1952)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
- RAJ VIKRAM
Harivansh Rai Bachchan
(27 November 1907 – 18 January 2003)
William Butler Yeats
(13 June 1865 – 28 January 1939)
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