Kenneth Patchen Poems

In the footsteps of the walking air
Sky's prophetic chickens weave their cloth of awe
And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying.
...

Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room.
A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water,
And in the corner away from the hearth, the red wheels
Of an up-ended chariot slowly turn.
...

A beast stands at my eye.

I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new mother
...

The Dove walks with sticky feet
Upon the green crowns of the almond tree,
Its feathers smeared over with warmth
Like honey
...

I believe that a young woman
Is standing in a circle of lions
In the other side of the sky.
...

And all that is this day. . .
The boy with cap slung over what had been a face. ..

Somehow the cop will sleep tonight, will make love to his
...

To leave the earth was my wish, and no will stayed my rising.
Early, before sun had filled the roads with carts
Conveying folk to weddings and to murders;
Before men left their selves of sleep, to wander
...

The old guy put down his beer.
Son, he said,
(and a girl came over to the table where we were:
asked us by Jack Christ to buy her a drink.)
...

Be music, night,
That her sleep may go
Where angels have their pale tall choirs
...

The snow is deep on the ground.
Always the light falls
Softly down on the hair of my belovèd.
...