poems and pickaxes

God, A Poem by James Fenton A nasty surprise in a sandwich,  A drawing-pin caught in your sock,  The limpest of shakes from a hand w...

Leap Before You Look by W.H. Auden The sense of danger must not disappear: The way is certainly both short and steep, However gradual ...

A Devil by Zbigniew Herbert      He is an utter failure as a devil.  Even his tail.  Not long and fleshly with a black brush of hair at the...

Country Fair by Charles Simic If you didn't see the six-legged dog, It doesn't matter. We did and he mostly lay in the corner. As fo...

Flame Point by Jules Supervielle (tr. Allen Mandelbaum) All his life He loved to read By candlelight And often passed His hand across...

Interval Of Joy by George Seferis We were happy all that morning O God how happy. First the stones the leaves and the flowers shone an...

The Moonsheep by Christian Morgenstern (tr. E.M. Valk) The Moonsheep stands in the open plain, waiting, waiting, for the shears' refrai...

12 (from A Coney Island Of The Mind) by Lawrence Ferlinghetti 'One of those paintings that would not die'          its warring imag...

The Only Poem by Leonard Cohen This is the only poem I can read I am the only one can write it I didn't kill myself when things went wr...

As One Listens To The Rain by Octavio Paz Listen to me as one listens to the rain, not attentive, not distracted, light footsteps, thin...

My Life by Henri Michaux (tr. Bernard Waldrop) My life, you take off without me. You roll while I'm still waiting to take a step. ...

Poem To Shout In The Ruins by Louis Aragon (tr. Geoffrey Young) Let's spit the two of us let's spit On what we loved On what we...

Proem by Octavio Paz (tr. Eliot Weinberger)      At times poetry is the vertigo of bodies and the vertigo of joy and the vertigo of dea...

I Saw A Man by Stephen Crane I saw a man pursuing the horizon; Round and round they sped. I was disturbed at this; I accosted the man....

Ex-Basketball Player by John Updike Pearl Avenue runs past the high-school lot, Bends with the trolley tracks, and stops, cut off Befor...

The Other Life by Raymond Carver                 Now for the other life.  The one without mistakes.  -- Lou Lipsitz My wife is in the o...

Sad Song To Bore Everyone by Pablo Neruda (tr. Ilan Stavans) I wasted my life all night doing some counting not cows, not pounds, no...

Slapstick by Wislawa   Szymborska  (tr. Branczak & Cavanagh) If there are angels, I doubt they read our novels concerning thwarted...

The Obvious by Jeffrey McDaniel We didn't deny the obvious but we didn't entirely accept it either We said hello to it each mo...

To The Muse by James Wright It is all right. All they do Is go in by dividing One rib from another. I wouldn’t Lie to you. It hurts L...

The Quiet World by Jeffrey McDaniel In an effort to get people to look into each other's eyes more, and also to appease the mutes,...

A Contribution To Statistics by Wislawa Szymborska  (tr. by Baranczak & Cavanagh) Out of a hundred people those who always know be...

Last News About The Little Box by Vasko Popa The little box which contains the world Fell in love with herself And conceived Still an...

Through A Glass Darkly by Jamie Sexton Holme What can be learned of any life Except a blend of facts and lies? The secret springs that...

On The Road To San Romano by André Breton (tr. Charles Simic & Michael Benedikt) Poetry is made in bed like love Its unmade sheets ...

Salutations To A Mouse by Marsden Hartley If a mouse makes a nest Of one's written words Is there else to do but accept The flatte...

Barbara by Jacques Prévert (tr. Lawrence Ferlinghetti) Remember Barbara It rained all day on Brest that day And you walked smiling Fl...