American Poems by dreamydots

American poems

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American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems Barrels byPoems Barbara Guest....................................................... 4 American Poems American Poems American American Poems American Poems American Poems Anticipated Stranger by John 6 American Poems American Poems American Poems American PoemsAshbery................................. American Poems American Poems Having a Poems Coke with You by Frank Oâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;Hara............................. 8 American Poems American Poems American American Poems American Poems American Poems The Window byAmerican Diane diPoems Prima............................................ 10 American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems To You byPoems Kenneth Koch....................................................... 12 American Poems American Poems American American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems American Poems

I won’t let anybody take a drink out of this barrel of tears I’ve collected from you. Least of all another woman. I see her coming along. I know the type. I can tell you what she’ll be wearing. I know the type I won’t like it. She’ll look at that barrel she’s had a few in her day. Not that she’s ever filled one. She’ll remark casually, “Sweet water, good to wash my hair.” And who doesn’t know tears are purer than rain water and softer on the hair. Just as she steps toward it and makes for the cup, I’ll see phantom you and what you were brought up by the sea. And scraps of paper from this ditch of my brain will float on the water and choke her.

Barbara Guest

Itake won’t let anybod a drink out of this barrel o I’ve collected from Least of all anothe III see her coming a know the type. can tell you what be wearing. II know the type won’t like it. She’ll look at that she’s had a few in Not that she’s eve She’ll remark casu “Sweet water, good to wash my And who doesn’t k tears are purer than rain water and softer on the Just as she steps t and makes for the I’ll see phantom yo and what you were brought up by the And scraps of pap from this ditch of m will onher. the wa and float choke

JOHN ASHBERY Anticipated Stranger the bruise will stop by later. For now, the pain pauses in its round, notes the time of day, the patientâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;s temperature, leaves a memo for the surrogate: What the hell did you think you were doing? I mean . . . Oh well, less said the better, they all say. Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;ll post this at the desk. God will find the pattern and break it.

Frank O’Hara

Having a Coke with You is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, Irun, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary it is hard to believe when I’m with you that there can be anything as still as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it in the warm New York 4 o’clock light we are drifting back and forth between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them I look at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it’s in the Frick which thank heavens you haven’t gone to yet so we can go together the first time and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn’t pick the rider as carefully as the horse it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

The Window Diane di Prima

you are my bread and the hairline noise of my bones you are almost the sea you are not stone or molten sound I think you have no hands

this kind of bird flies backward and this love breaks on a windowpane where no light talks this is not time for crossing tongues (the sand here never shifts)

I think tomorrow turned you with his toe and you will shine and shine unspent and underground

KENNETH KOCH

To You I love you as a sheriff searches for a walnut That will solve a murder case unsolved for years Because the murderer left it in the snow beside a window Through which he saw her head, connecting with Her shoulders by a neck, and laid a red Roof in her heart. For this we live a thousand years; For this we love, and we live because we love, we are not Inside a bottle, thank goodness! I love you as a Kid searches for a goat; I am crazier than shirttails In the wind, when youâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;re near, a wind that blows from The big blue sea, so shiny so deep and so unlike us; I think I am bicycling across an Africa of green and white fields Always, to be near you, even in my heart When Iâ&#x20AC;&#x2122;m awake, which swims, and also I believe that you Are trustworthy as the sidewalk which leads me to The place where I again think of you, a new Harmony of thoughts! I love you as the sunlight leads the prow Of a ship which sails From Hartford to Miami, and I love you Best at dawn, when even before I am awake the sun Receives me in the questions which you always pose.