I think of the twenty thousand poems of Li Po and wonder, do words follow me or I them -- a word drunk? I do not care about fine phrases, the whoring after honor, the stipend, the gift, the grant -- but I would feed on an essence until it yields to me my own dumb form -- the weight raw, void of intent; to see behind the clarity of my glass the birth of new creatures suffused with light. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE REVEALER by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON THE UNSUNG HEROES by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR JAFFAR by JAMES HENRY LEIGH HUNT WRITTEN IN BUTLER'S SERMONS by MATTHEW ARNOLD CLIFF DWELLER LYRICS: A LITTLE NAP IN THE MORNING by BERTON BRALEY |