Roadless
where am I to look for quiet
and not see a road
walking the fields till dark
I rage more than ever in the mist
Angry poems
Angry poems — a collection of the best works on Poemship.
Gun lover
the certain clock of a gun
the fleet rose of a gun
the plain dish of a gun
the drunk kiss of a gun
Pleasantries
the badness
of our good morning
her long stories out of nothing
an unkind mind
to put in order
but not because of owning it
talking in the room of being
and every part of work
proving a plague
Unwelcome guest
morning warhead
coming in like a moth
my old temper
Carnivalesque
if I make filth and love
from that horse the body
I think myself obliged
to think myself happy
and not forget the winds that come
only to entertain us
a choir of voices buried
in one infinite chapel
a window is better than an absence
which disgraces the stone
awake I was angry
to sleep is to give way
Philistines
who having proved to be challenged
by difficult art
must be against it
or profess that nothing
ever is beautiful
taking themselves for ordinary people
like unpaid money
whispering to me
not to dance
Prospectors
where we met on occasion
mining abuses for very small stones
locked up in the dirt
the fields could not carry our bodies
lost and dangerous
whole places blown away
or driven here and there
like ships of lack
Maquiladoras
bled to make shoes
to make clothes
which they did with good will
and great pain
who could not say Let us see
what we can do to mend all
as a fur of experience
rose over us like amber
Dispossession
if talking is thinking
an afternoon doing business
must cure the quiet possession
of some undiscovered prize
and we shall get free money
calling the poor to be ready
for our coming night
Resistor
midnight in my head aching
from the news of hate
a moth on his oak
beaten by the green afternoon
cursing the wind
of our nothing-but-money lie
Fearmongers
last night brought back
in the mouth of my fear
we are not rid of our trouble
our whole hate business
where a lie is true
it is so much rope
Disaster capitalism
come a reckoning
I think I shall be able
to profit off it
the plague increases still
but like a parliament not much concerned
we laugh to sleep
Describe a feeling — we’ll find a poem
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