Results from COHEN'S POEMS: 21 - 30 of 44 total results for The only poem
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What a racket! What strange dials! / Only Civil War can fuse it shut -- / the mouth of the glorious impatient / ventriloquist performing behind our daily lives! / Canada is a dying animal / I will
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Drunk at last, he hugged himself, his stomach clean, cold and drunk, the sky clean but only for him, free to shiver, free to hate, free to begin.
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I must not betray / the small oasis where we lie, / though only for a time. / It is good to live between / a ruined house of bondage / and a holy promised land. / A cloud of grasshoppers / will
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If we are training each other for another love / what is it? / I only have a hunch / in what I've become expert. / Half of the wharf is bleeding, / it's the half where we always sleep.
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give them the particular view of branches and sky which will unleash their kisses. Only two shining people know, they go directly to the roots they lie between. For my part I describe the whole orchard.
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He was anxious to demonstrate the only skill he owned. He arranged the pieces under the needle. When he was halfway down the leg and doing very nicely I brought my foot down on the pedal beside his. The
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like mirrors in a movie palace lobby consulted / only on the way out / like a nymphomaniac who binds a thousand / into strange brotherhood / I wait / for each one of you to confess
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With only a breath, a vague turning, / you uncovered shadows / more deftly than I had flesh, / and the real and violent proportions of your body / made obsolete old treaties of excellence, / measures
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And soon the poems and the songs / Were only associations / Edged with bitterness / Focussed into pain / By paintings in a minor key / Remembered on warm nights / When he made love to strangers
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Nor is this a mourning-song / but only a naming of this mountain / on which I walk, / fragrant, dark, and softly white / under the pale of mist. / I name this mountain after him.