The Death Of The Ball Turret Gunner
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters
From my mother's sleep I fell into the State,
And I hunched in its belly till my wet fur froze
Six miles from earth, loosed from its dream of life,
I woke to black flak and the nightmare fighters
Looking back in my mind I can see The white sun like a tin plate Over the wooden turning of the weeds;
The street jerking —a wet swing— To end by the wall the children sang
The thin grass by the girls' door,
Trodden on, straggling, ...
At the back of the houses there is the wood
While there is a leaf of summer left, the
Makes sounds I can put somewhere in my song,
Has paths I can walk, when I wake, to
About suffering, about adoration, the old masters Disagree
When someone suffers, no one else eats Or walks or opens the window—no one breathes As the sufferers watch the sufferer
In St
Sebastian Mourned by St
(Rainer Maria Rilke)He went up under the gray
All gray and lost in the olive
And laid his forehead, gray with dust,
Deep in the dustiness of his hot hands
One looks from the
Almost as one looked as a child
In the
What I see still seems to me plain,
I ate pancakes one night in a Pancake
Run by a lady my age
She was gay
When I told her that I came from
In the shabby train no seat is vacant
The child in the ripped
Sprawls undisturbed in the
Of the smashed compartment
The saris go by me from the embassies
Cloth from the moon
Cloth from another planet
They look back at the leopard like the leopard
What a girl called "the dailiness of life"(Adding an errand to your errand
Saying,"Since you're up