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“Gardens are poems
Where you stroll with your hands in your pockets.
(Les jardins sont des poemes
Ou l'on se promene les mains dans les poches.)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
Where you stroll with your hands in your pockets.
(Les jardins sont des poemes
Ou l'on se promene les mains dans les poches.)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“Who is that blond child laughing as he runs after his colored marbles? [my marbles]
It's me
And who is the poet writing this poem?
That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
It's me
And who is the poet writing this poem?
That blond child who laughed as he ran after his colored marbles”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“The City is free of sin
The snow has given it absolution
A man who slips
A horse that falls
Oh no, the city is in a nightgown”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
The snow has given it absolution
A man who slips
A horse that falls
Oh no, the city is in a nightgown”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“Do you remember the long orphanage of the train stations
We crossed cities that turn-tabled all day
And vomited at night the sunshine of the day ("The Voyager")”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
We crossed cities that turn-tabled all day
And vomited at night the sunshine of the day ("The Voyager")”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“Oh you dear companions
Electric bells of the stations song of the reapers
Butcher's sleigh regiment of unnumbered streets
Cavalry of bridges nights livid with alcohol
The cities I've seen lived like mad women
(The Voyager)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
Electric bells of the stations song of the reapers
Butcher's sleigh regiment of unnumbered streets
Cavalry of bridges nights livid with alcohol
The cities I've seen lived like mad women
(The Voyager)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“Do you remember the suburbs and the plaintive flock of landscapes
The cypress trees projected their shadows under the moon
That night when as summer waned I listened
To a languorous bird forever wroth
And the eternal noise of a river wide and dark
(The Voyager)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
The cypress trees projected their shadows under the moon
That night when as summer waned I listened
To a languorous bird forever wroth
And the eternal noise of a river wide and dark
(The Voyager)”
― The Cubist Poets in Paris: An Anthology
“If anything can be said in prose, then poetry should be saved for saying nothing.”
―
―
“Gardens are poems
Where you stroll with your hands
in your pockets.”
―
Where you stroll with your hands
in your pockets.”
―
