Kenneth Rexroth Poems
|1.||Confusion of the Senses||7/7/2015|
|2.||Vitamins And Roughage||4/7/2010|
|3.||Sottoportico San Zaccaria||4/7/2010|
|4.||Toward An Organic Philosophy||4/7/2010|
|5.||The Wheel Revolves||4/7/2010|
|7.||Climbing Milestone Mountain, August 22, 1937||4/7/2010|
|8.||On What Planet||12/22/2011|
|11.||Yin And Yang||4/7/2010|
|12.||A Lesson In Geography||4/7/2010|
|15.||Lyell’s Hypothesis Again||4/7/2010|
|16.||Falling Leaves And Early Snow||12/22/2011|
|19.||The Bad Old Days||4/7/2010|
|20.||Thou Shalt Not Kill||4/7/2010|
|22.||Between Two Wars||12/22/2011|
|24.||Gic To Har||1/20/2003|
Gic To Har
It is late at night, cold and damp
The air is filled with tobacco smoke.
My brain is worried and tired.
I pick up the encyclopedia,
The volume GIC to HAR,
It seems I have read everything in it,
So many other nights like this.
I sit staring empty-headed at the article Grosbeak,
Listening to the long rattle and pound
Of freight cars and switch engines in the distance.
Suddenly I remember
Coming home from swimming
In Ten Mile Creek,
Over the long moraine in the early summer evening,
My hair wet, smelling of waterweeds and mud.
I remember a sycamore in ...
A thing unknown for years,
Rain falls heavily in June,
On the ripe cherries, and on
The half cut hay.
Above the glittering
Grey water of the inlet,
In the driving, light filled mist,
A blue heron
Catches mice in the green
And copper and citron swathes.
I walk on the rainy hills.
It is enough.