Let the crows go by hawking their caw and caw.
They have been swimming in midnights of coal mines somewhere.
Let 'em hawk their caw and caw.
Let the woodpecker drum and drum on a hickory stump.
He has been swimming in red and blue pools somewhere hundreds of years
And the blue has gone to his wings and the red has gone to his head.
Let his red head drum and drum.
Let the dark pools hold the birds in a looking-glass.
And if the pool wishes, let it shiver to the blur of many wings, old swimmers from old places.
Let the redwing streak a line of vermillion on the green wood lines.
And the mist along the river fix its purple in lines of a woman's shawl on lazy shoulders.
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Sun 07.12.2009 at 21:02
Dust of the feet
And dust of the wheels,
Wagons and people going,
All day feet and wheels.
Now. . .
. . Only stars and mist
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Tue 07.07.2009 at 01:22
I am the undertow
Washing tides of power
Battering the pillars
Under your things of high law.
I am a sleepless
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Sun 06.28.2009 at 01:59
After the last red sunset glimmer,
Black on the line of a low hill rise,
Formed into moving shadows, I saw
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Thu 06.25.2009 at 18:28
Legs hold a torso away from the earth.
And a regular high poem of legs is here.
Powers of bone and cord raise a belly and lungs
written by Carl Sandburg, published on Tue 06.23.2009 at 19:04
Little one, you have been buzzing in the books,
Flittering in the newspapers and drinking beer with lawyers