John Berryman

The Traveller by John Berryman

They pointed me out on the highway, and they said
'That man has a curious way of holding his head.'

They pointed me out on the beach; they said 'That man
Will never become as we are, try as he can.'

They pointed me out at the station, and the guard
Looked at me twice, thrice, thoughtfully & hard.

I took the same train that the others took,
To the same place. Were it not for that look
And those words, we were all of us the same.
I studied merely maps. I tried to name
The effects of motion on the travellers,
I watched the couple I could see, the curse
And blessings of that couple, their destination,
The deception practised on them at the station,
Their courage. When the train stopped and they knew
The end of their journey, I descended too.

Vague Stars of Ursa

Vague Stars of Ursa (1965)

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sandra_(1965_film)

Stars Claudia Cardinale. Director Luchino Visconti

The title, culled from the poem "Le ricordanze" by Giacomo Leopardi, could be translated as 'Glimmering stars of the Great Bear', and has a strong resonance with the movie's plot:

Vaghe stelle dell'Orsa, io non credea

Tornare ancor per uso a contemplarvi

Sul paterno giardino scintillanti,

E ragionar con voi dalle finestre

Di questo albergo ove abitai fanciullo,

E delle gioie mie vidi la fine.(...)

English translation:

Glimmering stars of the Great Bear,

I never thought I'd be back to see you

Shining down on my father's garden,

Nor talk to you ever again from the windows

Of this house where I spent my childhood

And saw the last of my happiness vanish.(...)

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The End Of The World by Archibald MacLeish

https://allpoetry.com/The-End-of-the-World

Quite unexpectedly, as Vasserot

The armless ambidextrian was lighting

A match between his great and second toe,

And Ralph the lion was engaged in biting

The neck of Madame Sossman while the drum

Pointed, and Teeny was about to cough

In waltz-time swinging Jocko by the thumb

Quite unexpectedly to top blew off:

And there, there overhead, there, there hung over

Those thousands of white faces, those dazed eyes,

There in the starless dark, the poise, the hover,

There with vast wings across the cancelled skies,

There in the sudden blackness the black pall

Of nothing, nothing, nothing — nothing at all.

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Long-Legged Fly

Long-Legged Fly by W.B. Yeats

That civilisation may not sink,

Its great battle lost,

Quiet the dog, tether the pony

To a distant post.

Our master Caesar is in the tent

Where the maps are spread,

His eyes fixed upon nothing,

A hand upon his head.

 

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream

His mind moves upon silence.

 

That the topless towers be burnt

And men recall that face,

Move most gently if move you must

In this lonely place.

She thinks, part woman, three parts a child,

That nobody looks; her feet

Practise a tinker shuffle

Picked up on the street.

 

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream

Her mind moves upon silence.

 

That girls at puberty may find

The first Adam in their thought,

Shut the door of the Pope’s chapel,

Keep those children out.

There on that scaffolding reclines

Michael Angelo.

With no more sound than the mice make

His hand moves to and fro.

 

Like a long-legged fly upon the stream

His mind moves upon silence.

https://www.poetryireland.ie/publications/poetry-ireland-review/online-archive/view/long-legged-fly

Featured in the preface of the book The Queen's Gambit by Walter Trevis

Richard Brautigan

Richard Brautigan (1935 – 1984) Poet

http://www.brautigan.net/

http://www.poetryfoundation.org/bio/richard-brautigan

Two poems from The Pill Versus the Springhill Mine Disaster (1968)

A Boat

O beautiful

was the werewolf   

in his evil forest.   

We took him

to the carnival   

and he started   

   crying

when he saw

the Ferris wheel.   

Electric

green and red tears   

flowed down

his furry cheeks.   

He looked

like a boat

out on the dark   

water.

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All Watched Over by Machines of Loving Grace

I like to think (and

the sooner the better!)

of a cybernetic meadow

where mammals and computers

live together in mutually

programming harmony

like pure water

touching clear sky. 

I like to think

     (right now please!)

of a cybernetic forest

filled with pines and electronics

where deer stroll peacefully

past computers

as if they were flowers

with spinning blossoms. 

I like to think

     (it has to be!)

of a cybernetic ecology

where we are free of our labors

and joined back to nature,

returned to our mammal

brothers and sisters,

and all watched over

by machines of loving grace.

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