Larry Levis

(1946 - 1996 / California / United States)

The Map


Applying to Heavy Equipment School
I marched farther into the Great Plains
And refused to come out.
I threw up a few scaffolds of disinterest.
Around me in the fields, the hogs grunted
And lay on their sides.


You came with a little water and went away.
The glass is still on the table,
And the paper,
And the burned scaffolds.
*
You were bent over the sink, washing your stockings.
I came up behind you like the night sky behind the town.
You stood frowning at your knuckles
And did not speak.
*
At night I lie still, like Bolivia.
My furnaces turn blue.
My forests go dark.
You are a low range of hills, a Paraguay.
Now the clouds cover us both.
It is raining and the movie houses are open.

Submitted: Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Do you like this poem?
0 person liked.
0 person did not like.

Read this poem in other languages

This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.

I would like to translate this poem »

word flags

What do you think this poem is about?

Comments about this poem (The Map by Larry Levis )

Enter the verification code :

There is no comment submitted by members..

Top Poems

  1. Phenomenal Woman
    Maya Angelou
  2. The Road Not Taken
    Robert Frost
  3. If You Forget Me
    Pablo Neruda
  4. Still I Rise
    Maya Angelou
  5. Dreams
    Langston Hughes
  6. Annabel Lee
    Edgar Allan Poe
  7. If
    Rudyard Kipling
  8. I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
    Maya Angelou
  9. Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
    Robert Frost
  10. Invictus
    William Ernest Henley

PoemHunter.com Updates

New Poems

  1. Neighbor, Katie Doty
  2. this poem is about Kohls Cash, Mandolyn ...
  3. Secrets Hidden By The Side Of The Road, Is It Poetry
  4. Poetic Flashes, Sandra Feldman
  5. Lick Of Leak, sallam yassin
  6. Ode to Arizona on a Hot Summer's Day, Adam M. Snow
  7. Forgiveness, Tony Ford
  8. Chaperon, Nassy Fesharaki
  9. Great Warmth of a Curious Heart, B.. Alexander
  10. Whereabouts, B.. Alexander

Poem of the Day

poet Sir Walter Scott

The moon's on the lake, and the mist's on the brae,
And the Clan has a name that is nameless by day;
Then gather, gather, gather Grigalach!
Gather, gather, gather Grigalach!

...... Read complete »

   
[Hata Bildir]