Beautiful dripping fragments
The negligent list of one after another
As I happen to call them to me
Or drink to them.
The real poems what we call poems being merely pictures.
The poems of privacy of night and of men like me,
The embers left from earlier fires shall duly flame again.
The negligent list of one after another
As I happen to call them to me
Or drink to them.
The real poems what we call poems being merely pictures.
The poems of privacy of night and of men like me,
This poem drooping shy and unseen
That I always carry and that all men carry.
Nothing is ever lost and can be lost.
The body, the sluggish, the aged, the cold.The embers left from earlier fires shall duly flame again.
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