robert dickerson Poems

That was the hardest thing to fqthom-
there was nothing unseemly in her singing,
nothing lewd
to make a cleric tremble:
...

Then, of course, when the moon cued
or when lightning ciphered, one saw
the riveting flash of flesh-vein blue, mica bright;
heard the song with overtones bedight
...

Take one large butt
(or two small)
draw the water
bring to a rolling boil
...

He sat still and stiller still
like a statue posing as a man
(the soughing trees boiled, in comparison)
knowing he could quit at will;
...

Through the portal
of the mortal
let us fly.
...

You are my indifferent conqueror
I, your willing prisoner,
Urbino, and if there can really be
chattel where chattel is voluntary,
...

'Doing the right thing's best', she guessed.
'Always', I agreed;
But what the right thing was, just,
Neither of us could see.
...

Jail. The best place for poets.
The only place the heart may
rest. The rest is cant.
Time there is to rest
...