Marsden Hartley Poems

An hundred warblers in the nearest aching gap,
it seems as though it loved its aching
filled with hyper-ikonistic misery.
...

WE'LL have the sun now,'
the quaking sea gulls said
'We've run the gamut of the thundering sea,
one by one one by one,
...

THE tide comes in, and out goes tide;
it skirts the clifls, and in their shadow sees
the remnants of the days that fall
...

WHEN the surf licks with its tongues
these volcanic personal shapes, which we,
defining for ourselves as rocks, accept
...

I have taken scales from off
The cheeks of the moon.
I have made fins from bluejays' wings,
...