Los más leídos ▸
Plus ça change
our vexation at expecting change in society
an abortive child preserved
fresh in salt
we press the little ex-hand
and after some time at the office
die of apoplexy
Poemas sobre el tema: salt
Poemas sobre el tema «salt» en Poets.by.
Salty
an abundance of salt
for my ordinary table
ugly talk fear and tittle tattle
is all the news now
Sun line
white light and simple talk
promise a Zen of salt
like a road in the country
of a hand
Fish head
in the salt of noon comes a dinner
made only of fat
the eye is a fine sight
to see at table
white and still
as an ignorant bed
Another unnecessary poem about Crow
morning brought new
velvet life to the crow
his wanting lung round and angry
bled raw salt
many were the knives strange was the ink
taken to the strangers’ table
that earth where
he would not sit
but in discontent went up
and down and up
the only trumpet
for a company of ants
Salt cure
I came to name my place
a poor little island
after a pill
that shore
rough with wear
may do more good than I know
Salt
The highway’s tar
has been bleached by
a winter’s worth of salt,
and in the mid-day sun
it almost shines. I squint
at the shapes on the shoulder—
here the humped corpse
of some salt-lover, there
a fetal curl of flayed tire.
Sugar Pill
Is it or isn’t it?
The sugar pill isn’t saying.
The line that bisects it
was intentionally left blank.
It’s a go sign, perhaps,
or a one-bead rosary.
Its zero gives birth
to all other numbers.
Since opposites attract within
bounds of reason & good breeding,
it must be in love
with a salt tablet.
It can be anything
the salt wants,
including another condiment
that cures vagueness.
Days Like This
No words can begin to describe
How I feel on days like this
Like unwanted mixed with salt
Like pepper on a burn
Hated. Why am I around?
A 'nuisance' to those
Who are mean to care
Like hot curry drowning in tears
An ice bath on a cold day
Locked away writing fears
Bound to come out sometime
Like smelly feet in a clean world
Or a mutt surrounded
In a pedigree show
Uncared for when all I want is love
Pushed away in my 'home'
The Salt Stone
I have licked
the salt stone.
Run mad
as a mushroom cap
bobbing in the rapids
of a dark stream.
Leapt up
the oak ladder
to circle the
crescent moon.
The wind
lies languid
in the ivory caves
of your
morning
mouth.
Tide
You move
like a winter tide
rolling on a belly
of sand.
Swirling over me,
fondling
the broken shells
of my sighs.
Lick my skin
with salt
and silt
before I
die.
Inland
People that build their houses inland,
People that buy a plot of ground
Shaped like a house, and build a house there,
Far from the sea-board, far from the sound
Of water sucking the hollow ledges,
Tons of water striking the shore,--
What do they long for, as I long for
One salt smell of the sea once more?
People the waves have not awakened,
Spanking the boats at the harbor's head,
What do they long for, as I long for,--
Starting up in my inland bed,
Beating the narrow walls, and finding
Neither a window nor a door,
Screaming to God for death by drowning,--
One salt taste of the sea once more?