written by Wallace StevensCall the roller of big cigars,
The muscular one, and bid him whip
In kitchen cups concupiscent curds.
Let the wenches dawdle in such dress
As they are used to wear, and let the boys
Bring flowers in last month's newspapers.
Let be be finale of seem.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Take from the dresser of deal.
Lacking the three glass knobs, that sheet
On which she embroidered fantails once
And spread it so as to cover her face.
If her horny feet protrude, they come
To show how cold she is, and dumb.
Let the lamp affix its beam.
The only emperor is the emperor of ice-cream.
Wallace Stevens
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Wed 10.21.2009 at 14:14
Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.
Take the moral law and make a nave of it
And from the nave build haunted heaven. Thus,
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Mon 09.21.2009 at 07:31
Although you sit in a room that is gray,
Except for the silver
Of the straw-paper,
And pick
At your pale white gown;
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Thu 07.30.2009 at 22:39
Poetry is the supreme fiction, madame.
Take the moral law and make a nave of it
And from the nave build haunted heaven.Thus,
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Wed 04.22.2009 at 21:06
She sang beyond the genius of the sea.
The water never formed to mind or voice,
Like a body wholly body, fluttering
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Sat 03.28.2009 at 08:10
My candle burned alone in an immense valley.
Beams of the huge night converged upon it,
Until the wind blew.
written by Wallace Stevens, published on Thu 03.26.2009 at 14:16
The house was quiet and the world was calm.
The reader became the book; and summer night