John Wieners Poems
|1.||A Poem For Painters||4/14/2015|
|2.||A Poem for Record Players||6/9/2016|
|3.||A Poem for the Old Man||6/9/2016|
|4.||A poem for vipers||6/9/2016|
|5.||The Acts of Youth||6/9/2016|
|6.||Children of the Working Class||6/9/2016|
|11.||The Meadow Where All Things Grow According To Their Own Design||12/4/2017|
|12.||Dead Poets of Queer Poems||12/4/2017|
|13.||After A Poem For Cocksuckers||12/4/2017|
|14.||To Charles On His Home||12/4/2017|
|15.||Ailsa's LASt WILL and T E S T A M E N T||12/4/2017|
|16.||Does His Voice Sound Some Echo In Your Heart||12/4/2017|
|17.||Broken Hearted Memorys||12/4/2017|
|18.||You Talk Of Going But Don't||12/4/2017|
|20.||The Murder Of Cheap Waitresses||12/4/2017|
|22.||Helen Go Mother Beth||12/4/2017|
|23.||He's Not Here No One's There||12/4/2017|
|24.||Two Years Later||12/4/2017|
|26.||The Lights In Town||12/4/2017|
Comments about John Wieners
A Poem for Record Players
The scene changes
Five hours later and
I come into a room
where a clock ticks.
I find a pillow to
muffle the sounds I make.
I am engaged in taking away
from God his sound.
The pigeons somewhere
above me, the cough
a man makes down the hall,
the flap of wings
below me, the squeak
of sparrows in the alley.
The scratches I itch
on my scalp, the landing
of birds under the bay
window out my window.
All dull details
I can only describe to you,
but which are here and
I hear and shall never
give up again, shall carry
with me ...
For I have seen love
and his face is choice Heart of Hearts,
a flesh of pure fire, fusing from the center
where all Motion is one.
And I have known
despair that the Face has ceased to stare
at me with the Rose of the world
but lies furled