Find and share the perfect poems.
Split ears of morning earth green now,
Love and death twisted in tree arms,
Come love, throw out your nipple
to the teeth of a passing clown.
Spit olive pits at my Lorca,
Give Harlem’s king one spoon,
At four in the never noon.
Scoop out the croaker eyes
of rose flavored Gypsies
Singing García,
In lost Spain’s
Darkened noon.
By Robert Kaufman, from THE ANCIENT RAIN, copyright © 1981 by Bob Kaufman. Used by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.
Sweet beats of jazz impaled on slivers of wind
Kansas Black Morning/ First Horn Eyes/
Historical sound pictures on New Bird wings
People shouts/ boy alto dream/ Tomorrow’s
Gold belled pipe of stops and future Blues Times
Lurking Hawkins/ shadows of Lester/ realization
Bronze fingers—brain extensions seeking trapped sounds
Ghetto thoughts/ bandstand courage/ solo flight
Nerve-wracked suspicions of newer songs and doubts
New York altar city/ black tears/ secret disciples
Hammer horn pounding soul marks on unswinging gates
San Fran, hipster land,
Jazz sounds, wig sounds,
Earthquake sounds, others,
Allen on Chestnut Street,
Giving poetry to squares,
Corso on knees, pleading,
God eyes.
Rexroth, Ferlinghetti,
Swinging, in cellars,
Kerouac at Locke’s,
Writing Neal
On high typewriter,
Neal, booting a choo-choo,
On zigzag tracks.
Now, many cats
Falling in,
New York cats,
Too many cats,
Monterey scene cooler,
San Franers, falling down.
Canneries closing.
Sardines splitting
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