Poems found: 417
1802 BLAKE BUTTS LETTER VARIATION
1906. MAURICE TUCHMAN WRITES: 'TWO OF HIS OLDER BROTHERS CON
9:50 AM, JUNE 1. I'M OUT IN THE WORLD, PLACED IN A METHODIST
ABANDON HERE ALL YE WHO ENTER HOPE
ABRI DU CRO-MAGNON WAS EARLIER ABRI DU
AGAIN THE TOMBSTONES BREAK FROM THEIR HUDDLE AND LINE UP
ALEISTER CROWLEY AND LATER, KENNETH GRANT, SOUGHT TO HANG THE
AMAZING TO BE THIS BIPEDAL JUGGERNAUT
AND JUST WHAT ARE YOU UP TO NOW, DEMANDED MOTHER. WELL, I'M
AND THE NUDE WITH LITTLE DRAWERS?
AS I STOPPED TO SLIDE THE SALMON IN TO BAKE
AS SHE RISES, OR SEEMS TO HOLD
AT THE CLEVELAND MUSEUM OF ART
BASHIO THRILL OF SETTING FORTH
BEYOND THE SHADOW, DOUBT. WITHOUT A SHADOW, NO DOUBT
BISON OF REDBUD LEAVES STUTTERING IN TORRID 5 PM SUN. GHOST
BOTTOMLESSNESS OF THE ADVENTURE AND
BRATTLEBORO VT: SHINY SCARLET IVY WITH DARK RED METHODIST BRICK
CHINESE MOUNTAINS DOWNED IN MOSS
CONCERNING YOUR JUMPING BEAN STATUS,' MY MOTHER CONTINUED
COOL GREY SEPTEMBER FLOW THROUGH THE CHESTNUTS, LEAF FLUTTER SO
CROSS SECTION OF THE INCARNATION
DEATH OF GOD SURE TAKES A LONG TIME TO FAIL
DEATHLESS SIBYL, YOU APPEAR TO ME AS AN ANCIENT FOETAL CANARY. I
DEEDS DONE AND SUFFERED BY LIGHT
DELECTABLE ATMOSPHERE OF A MIDSUMMER NIGHT'S DREAM
DERRIDA LIKE A VIRUS IN ARTAUD'S TEXTS, AUTOCATALYTICALLY SPREADING
DICKINSON ON THE CUPULES GOUGED IN A BURIAL SLAB AT LA FERRASSIE
DOES SOUTINE, STARING AT A HANGING RABBIT, RELEASE SOME OF HIS OWN
EACH STANDS ALONE ON THE HEART OF THE EARTH
EMILY: WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING IN MY HOPSCOTCH?
FACELESS LAUSSEL RAISES HER BLOOD-FILLED VAGINAL HORN
FIRST TRIP TO KYOTO, JANUARY 1962; HAVING PULLED AWAY FROM THE
FIVE POEMS FROM 'FROM SCRATCH': 1. REVERBERATIONS
FIVE POEMS FROM 'FROM SCRATCH': 2. AFTER READING ACKROYD
FIVE POEMS FROM 'FROM SCRATCH': 3. HELMET
FIVE POEMS FROM 'FROM SCRATCH': 4
FIVE POEMS FROM 'FROM SCRATCH': 5. UNLEAVING
FREEING THE MOMENT FROM THE HOUR, YOUR FACE
FROM THE GLASS WALL OF LISITA RESTAURANT, NIMES, NOVEMBER
GARGOYLALIA POURING FROM THE GARGOYLE'S SNOUT CAN ALSO BE
GODS BURIED IN THEIR BURDENS LABOR EACH DAY TO DIE INTO THE DESIGN
GORGEOUS GEORGE COMES POUNDING DOWN THE BEACH
HART CRANE DRANK TO SPLIT OPEN THE AYAHUASCA CANTALOUP HE
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 1
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 10
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 11
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 12
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 13
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 14
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 15
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 16
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 17
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 18
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 19
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 2
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 20
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 21
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 22
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 23
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 24
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 25
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 26
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 3
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 4
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 5
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 6
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 7
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 8
HOMUNCULA (BY HORRAH PORNOFF): 9
I AWAKE AT 5 AM SEEING A SERBIAN BAYONET
I AWAKE AT 5 AM SEEING A SERBIAN BAYONET
I CONTINUE TO BE HAUNTED BY THE IMAGE OF A HETEROSEXUAL MAN WITH
I DECIDED THAT I KNEW NO MORE THAN ONE PERCENT OF EXISTENCE. I
I MET A MAN WHO TOLD ME EVERYTHING ABOUT A MAN. AS HE
I, FREIDRICH SCHRODER-SONNENSTERN
IMAGINATION, A HORSE ENWEBBED IN A SEA WALL OF MOVING
IN 1919, IN CERET, WHERE LANDSCAPE
IN THE BEGINNING WAS TOUCH, WALLS EVERYWHERE, SIGNED BY
IN THE FLESH OF THE BLUE SKY SWALLOWS SQUEAK LIKE WORMS
IN THE NOT TOO DISTANT FUTURE, CIVILIZATION WILL CONSIST OF DISNEY
INFANTS WHO, UNLIKE AUSTRALOPITHECUS
JACKSON POLLACK RECLAIMED THE AURIGNACIAN FLOOR. HIS NEXT MOVE
JAGUAR OF BUBBLES IN THE TOILET BOWL
JUDY CLOUDBURST, LUCIFLAILING MAPLES
KROGER LEAVER EMERGES FROM NO CHRIST CAVE, BUT FROM
LESS AND LESS WHOLLY ABSORBED, AWARE
LOOKING AT HANS BELLMER DRAWINGS
LOOKING UP THROUGH THE CHRISTMAS TREE AT 51
MAGGOT IN EVERY ARTIST'S CRAW IS HIS ENSIGN OF LIFE
MAN AS A REFRIGERATED CREATURE. CONDITIONED OVER ICE AGES, HE
MEDUSA MUST HAVE HAD A HEADFUL OF EGGS TO HATCH ALL THOSE
MOST JUST, I GUESS, TO FIND YOU
MY GATE IS IRED BY ARTAUD, AUSTERED BY VALLEJO
NEED TO SPEAK AS MAN: ANCIENT BARDIC HUBRIS
NO ONE HAS RETURNED FROM DEATH
NOTES ON A VISIT TO LE TUE D'AUDOUBERT
NOTHING INCAPABLE OF IMAGE. FOR A MOMENT, NO MOMENT
ONE IF BY LAND, NONE IF BY VOID
ONE SENSES IN HER ART A LUXURIANT AMBIVALENCE
OUR JOURNEY AROUND THE DROWNED CITY OF IS, SELS.
OUR LADY OF THE THREE-PRONGED DEVIL
OUT OUR BEDROOM WINDOW ACROSS THE NEIGHBORS' CAR PARK BACK
OVERLOOKED, THE BARREN GROUND UNDER NOVEMBER
PEOPLE OF ALL RACES IN MCDONALD'S, DEVOURING RAIN FORESTS
PETER BEARD JUXTAPOSES DEAD AFRICAN ANIMALS WITH CELEBRITIES AND
PHOTO SEEN IN PERU, 1965: A HOLE IN THE GROUND AROUND WHICH
PIT BULL LOOPED TO CATHEDRAL IRONWORK
POEM, A TUMOR-ENTANGLED, UMBILICAL SIGHT-LINE
PREGNANT STONE FOREVER DWELLING IN ITS STILL BIRTH
RHAPSODY ON A THEME BY VALLEJO
SELF-PORTRAIT BY A CAMERON MASK
SHEELA-NA-GIG, THE WITCH IN THE WALL - SHE TAKES OFF! AND LIKE A
SO NOW YOU AWAKE, THE LABYRINTH NEARLY TRAVERSED, STUNNED BY THE
SOME COMMENTS BY THE LITTLE KING
SOUTINE'S PORTRAITS ARE MARVELOUS MACHINES OF CONSCIOUSNESS
SPIDER IS THE SELF, WEAVING COHERENTLY IF ERRATICALLY A
STILL LIFE, WITH GRAPES & PEARS
STILL-LIFE, WITH AMERICAN VIOLETS
STUDY FOR A SELF-PORTRAIT AT 12 YEARS OLD
SWAYING ON ITS CABLE, OVER THE HOGBACK ROAD
THERE IS NEITHER FATHER NOR MOTHER
THERE IS NEITHER FATHER NOR MOTHER
THING IS, TO REMAIN IN NIGREDO
THIS DICTIONARY IS MY FATHER'S BOOK
TO BE INSIDE ROBINSON JEFFER'S HAWK TOWER IS TO BE INSIDE HIS
TO WRITE IN ACCORDANCE WITH WHAT I KNOW IS A DEAD END. I MUST DO
TRAIN WHISTLE SIRENIAN THROUGH YPSILANTI, INDUSTRIAL, RUSTY, AS IF
TUXEDOED GROOM ON CANVAS BRIDE
UNMADE BED WITH MOIST TRAILS OF THE UNMAKING. SINGS OF
VARIATIONS ON JESUS AND THE FLY
VISIONS OF THE FATHERS OF LASCAUX
WAKE AN ELEGY STIRS...SOMETHING TO BE LISTENED TO.
WALLACE STEVENS, WHY DID YOU DESCRIBE REVOLUTIONARIES AS 'HAIRY
WE'VE GOTTEN THE HALO OUT. THE HEAD IS STILL INSIDE.'
WHEN DREAM CROSSED INTO CLOSED-EYE VISION, WHEN PHOSPHENE
WHILE I NEVER MET ANTONIN ARTAUD, I DID WITNESS HIS PERFORMANCE
WHITE NIGHTS / THE PEELINGS OF DAY
WHITMAN'S HAND LATHERED WITH CIVIL WAR. DICKINSON VOID OF
WHY DO I SO MUCH WANT NO MEANING AS PART OF COMPOSITION