Kenneth Patchen (13 December 1911 - 8 January 1972 / Ohio)

I have had this poem since 1964, the second stanza reads:

oh my love, my golden lark, my soft long doll
Your lips have splashed my dull house with print of flowers
My hands are crooked where they have spilled over your dear curving

in response to anne's comment: i first read patchen in high school in the mid 2000's, some forty years after you did. i feel the same way: patchen defined the (as yet unnapproachable) world in a way that made it seem so magical and so passionate. KP is among the few poets that actually effected my development into an adult (my commute isn't quite finished) .

When I was young, the world was frightening. I first read Patchen in high school back in the early sixties. He made the world understandable for me. This is a beautiful poem. It's a good poem to help become acquainted with Patchen because he can be so sharp. But even here you can can see the undeniable passion that inhabits all his work. I felt I could connect with him. He was somebody that understood my world.