Kenneth Patchen

(13 December 1911 - 8 January 1972 / Ohio)

There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left Poem by Kenneth Patchen


I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a
temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest.

For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the
world. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I
cover her against any hurt.

Using the pen of rivers and mountaintops I store her
pillow with singing.

Upon her hair I write the looking of the heavens at
early morning.

-- Away from this kingdom, from this last undefiled
place, I would keep our governments, our civilization, and
all other spirit-forsaken and corrupt institutions.

O cold beautiful blossoms of the moon moving upon
her shoulders . . . the lips of the moon moving there . . .
where the touch of any other lips would be a profanation.

Submitted: Friday, January 3, 2003

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Comments about this poem (There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left by Kenneth Patchen )

  • Rookie S. A. S. (8/30/2009 3:32:00 AM)

    I also love the collaborations that Patchen did with himself producing artwork/visual poems. (Report) Reply

Read all 1 comments »

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