Explore Poems: Aphorism

         PRECEPT I.

In Things of moment, on thy self depend,
Nor trust too far thy Servant or thy Friend:
With private Views, thy Friend may promise fair,
And Servants very seldom prove sincere.

       PRECEPT II.
...

Razors pain you;
Rivers are damp;
Acids stain you;
And drugs cause cramp.
Guns aren’t lawful;
Nooses give;
Gas smells awful;
You might as well live.

And what did the Armenians say?

An Umayyad monk
spins wheat and wool above us

Time is a scarecrow

•


That’s what the Armenians said

i (feoh)
Wealth is a comfort                    to every man
yet every man                              must divide it mightily
If   he wishes to have                   the measurer’s mercy



ii (ur)
The ox is steady-hearted             and over-horned
A fierce and famous beast                      it fights with...

I.

Isaiah awoke angry.

Lapping at Isaiah’s ears black birdsong no it was anger.   

God had filled Isaiah’s ears with stingers.

Once God and Isaiah were friends.

God and Isaiah used to converse nightly, Isaiah would rush into the garden.

They conversed under the Branch, night...

Cruelty has a Human Heart
And Jealousy a Human Face 
Terror the Human Form Divine 
And Secrecy, the Human Dress 

The Human Dress, is forged Iron 
The Human Form, a fiery Forge. 
The Human Face, a Furnace seal'd 
The Human Heart, its hungry Gorge.

The naked man in the caravan
                                                       has peace of mind. He whose covering
belongs to others is uncovered.
                           He who has luck will have the winds
                                                                                  blow him his firewood.
He whose trousers are made of dry grass...

To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage 
A Dove...

Parks and ponds are good by day;
I do not delight
In black acres of the night,
Nor my unseasoned step disturbs
The sleeps of trees or dreams of herbs.

Psychoanalysis
always looks for the egg
in a basket
that has been lost.

*       *       *

I sample sin as if it were
the beginning of well-being.

*       *       *

I don't like Paradise
as they...

Large moon the deep orange of embers.  
Also the scent.
The griefs of others—beautiful, at a distance.

A thing too perfect to be remembered:
stone beautiful only when wet.

*     *     *

Blinded by light or black cloth—
so many ways
not to see others suffer.

*     *     *

Too much longing:

it separates us
like scent from bread,
rust from iron.

*     *     *

From very far or very close—
the most resolute folds...

I'm herdsman of a flock.
The sheep are my thoughts
And my thoughts are all sensations.
I think with my eyes and my ears
And my hands and feet
And nostrils and mouth.

To think a flower is to see and smell it.
To eat a fruit...

A poem should be palpable and mute   
As a globed fruit,

Dumb
As old medallions to the thumb,

Silent as the sleeve-worn stone
Of casement ledges where the moss has grown—

A poem should be wordless   
As the flight of birds.

                         *               

A poem should be motionless in...

Words shouting, singing, smiling, frowning—
                  Sense lacking.
Ah, nothing, more obscure than Browning,
                  Save blacking.

"Love seeketh not itself to please,
Nor for itself hath any care,
But for another gives its ease,
And builds a Heaven in Hell's despair."

So sung a little Clod of Clay
Trodden with the cattle's feet,
But a...

Have but one God: thy knees were sore
If bent in prayer to three or four.

Adore no images save those
The coinage of thy country shows.

Take not the Name in vain. Direct
Thy swearing unto some effect.

Thy hand from Sunday work be held—
Work...

The poet is a man who feigns
And feigns so thoroughly, at last
He manages to feign as pain
The pain he really feels,

And those who read what once he wrote
Feel clearly, in the pain they read,
Neither of the pains he felt,
Only a...

The last line should strike like a lover’s complaint.
You should never see it coming.
And you should never hear the end of it.

Fate piles up
On the bloody Norman shore.
If you must swim there
Swim on your back.