1 min read
Слушать(AI)The Naked Land
A beast stands at my eye.
I cook my senses in a dark fire.
The old wombs rot and the new
Approaches with the footsteps of a world.
Who are the people of this unscaled heaven?
What beckons?
Whose blood hallows this grim land?
What slithers along the watershed of my human sleep?
The other side of knowing…Caress of unwaking delight… O startA sufficient love!
O gently silent
Of the last spaces.
Kenneth Patchen
Kenneth Patchen (December 13, 1911 – January 8, 1972) was an American poet and novelist. He experimented with different forms of writing and inc
Comments
You need to be signed in to write comments
Other author posts
The Hangmans Great Hands
And all that is this day The boy with cap slung over what had been a face
When We Were Here Together
when we were here together in a place we did not know, nor oneanother Abit of grass held between the teeth for a moment, bright hair on the wind What we were we did not know, nor even the grass or the flame of hair turning to ash on the ...
In the footsteps of the walking air
In the footsteps of the walking Sky's prophetic chickens weave their cloth of And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying Night in his soft haste bumps on the shoulders of the
Do the Dead Know what Time It Is
The old guy put down his beer Son, he said, (and a girl came over to the table where we were: asked us by Jack Christ to buy her a drink ) Son, I am going to tell you something The like of which nobody was ever told
