John Ashbery Poems

We were sitting there, and
I made a joke about how
it doesn't dovetail: time,
...

As I sit looking out of a window of the building
I wish I did not have to write the instruction manual on the uses of a new metal.
I look down into the street and see people, each walking with an inner peace,
And envy them—they are so far away from me!
...

Not the smoothness, not the insane clocks on the square,
the scent of manure in the municipal parterre,
not the fabrics, the sullen mockery of Tweety Bird,
...

Within a windowed niche of that high hall
I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day.
I shall rush out as I am, and walk the street
The lights begin to twinkle from the rocks
...

Barely tolerated, living on the margin
In our technological society, we were always having to be rescued
On the brink of destruction, like heroines in Orlando Furioso
...

O awaken with me
the inquiring goodbyes.
Ooh what a messy business
...

Eyes shining without mystery,
Footprints eager for the past
Through the vague snow of many clay pipes,
And what is in store?
...

When Eduard Raban, coming along the passage, walked into the
open doorway, he saw that it was raining. It was not raining much.
...

1.
Research has shown that ballads were produced by all of society
working as a team. They didn't just happen. There was no guesswork.
The people, then, knew what they wanted and how to get it.
...

Things I left on your paper:
one of the craziest episodes that ever overtook me.
Do you like espionage? A watered charm?
...