Results from COHEN'S POEMS: 21 - 28 of 28 total results for fish
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Trees and ships / see me stagger / like a fish in a shock of underwater dynamite / Blessed by the end of the world / I spin without wobbling / among the weathervanes / which hover like homeless
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had heaved the river aside / and fish screamed against fossils / in the drying sand. / Because you learned / some family lines in faces / and let go gratefully / the easy silhouettes, / did you
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One thread of a spider web, suddenly white, goes fishing in the sunshine. Some butterflies want to fertilize my shiny boot. A cat sharpens the top of a wall by walking across it, and then by walking back,
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One thread of a spider web, suddenly white, goes fishing in the sunshine. Some butterflies want to fertilize my shiny boot. A cat sharpens the top of a wall by walking across it, and then by walking back
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like hulks of large fish rotting far upbeach; / the disinterested scrape of shovels / collecting sand from sidewalks, destroying streams; / and school-children in streetcars, / staring out, astonished.
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Not by the entrails of fishes. Not by sacrificial fire. Not by red-hot iron. Not by clamp. Not by muzzle. Not by smoke from the altar. Not by the counting of petals. Not by the signal of wings. Not by
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I take my place / among the paper fish and make-believe clocks, / naming the flowers she has drawn, / smiling while she paints my head on large clay coins, / and making a sort of courtly love to her
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The plan to document these daisies. The plan to fish every morning with Donald. The plan to sit an hour each day with Anthony. The plan to go on the road again. The plan of money and fast bodies. The