Tony Towle (born 1939) is a native New Yorker and poet. He began writing poetry in 1960 and John Ashbery has referred to him as "one of the New York School's best-kept secrets.
Towle currently lives in New York City with actress Diane Tyler. He has two children.
In the 1960s, Towle became associated with the New York School, taking workshops with Kenneth Koch and Frank O'Hara. He ... more »
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Tony Towle Poems
Dawn turns up black and important before the sun shows it's only dawn blackness and all. The picture is different,
In August I will visit a distant land, and in September a beautiful woman will fall in love with me. In autumn I look out the window. In December I go to the movies.
The two knights suggest to the king that he take the hero into his confidence. The pantomimes are spaced to accommodate them. It is a work of great beauty. It is night. Four boys remain on the scene. They choose four girls. This is what happens:
If you still have charm you have been underutilized; but tell us, which do you love more, your dagger or the moon?
Here are the wheels of the new kingdom and here, here are the radical tires. You believe me of course, a plant, a cup, who have demonstrated affectionate indifference, the blundering forest charm plunked you into, number 32.
My unconscious mind spun in delirium. The wings are right over me and in a moment the claws will be ripping me apart. The pictures crowded in; a tremendous blast of air swept over me,
We Plunged into the Western Hemisphere
We plunged into the Western Hemisphere. The chances are one in five I've taken a capsule of poison. The air smells like flowers; I look up:
The New World
You've left me by myself and I fall to pieces into the river. It's the same voice, this time between 3 and 4 a.m.; four lies about blondes. Boom, a quiet sun. I still like
The New World
You've left me by myself and I fall to pieces into the river. It's the same voice, this time between 3 and 4 a.m.; four lies about blondes. Boom, a quiet sun. I still like toast and jam, in fact I feel like toast and jam; it's spring,
The ability to create illusion, that's what I have, what all true actors have. By our mere presence on a stage we can create any image we choose. We haven't eaten
Checking off the list, I saw you as you really were, spiced, like a fist in my sleep, finished, like the purr of a galley.
Only one at a time of mourning, in which the edge of the hill is going down and I was close to loving you for it.
a. by degrees Which gives it over to our raging orders. In the ground, planted, my hands on you; it was a time for it.
Thoughts Near the George Washington Brid...
We move frontally toward dominion, which is something I've wanted to do; but with too much appeasement in that advertisement, too brief,
Comments about Tony Towle
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
Dawn turns up black and important
before the sun shows it's only dawn
blackness and all.
The picture is different,
going across the room as the bed,
occupied for hours is the shadow,
or the shadow is dust
following the sun across the room;
talking on the bed
as the physician pronounced his words,
making the room a nightmare.
When I wake up I'll be reading.
The first line, a climax
summing up the past, a trap in the paper,
is crossed out. The smoke curls around her waist;
green and white, it is straightforward and
understandable, literally ...