Remember my little granite pail?
The handle of it was blue.
Think what's got away in my life—
Was enough to carry me thru.
Black Hawk held: In reason
land cannot be sold,
only things to be carried away,
and I am old.
Young Lincoln's general moved,
pawpaw in bloom,
and to this day, Black Hawk,
reason has small room.
There's a better shine
on the pendulum
than is on my hair
and many times
.. ..
I've seen it there.
Asa Gray wrote Increase Lapham:
pay particular attention
to my pets, the grasses.
In moonlight lies
the river passing—
it's not quiet
and it's not laughing.
I'm not young
and I'm not free
but I've a house of my own
by a willow tree.
In the great snowfall before the bomb
colored yule tree lights
windows, the only glow for contemplation
along this road
I worked the print shop
right down among em
the folk from whom all poetry flows
and dreadfully much else.
I was Blondie
I carried my bundles of hog feeder price lists
down by Larry the Lug,
I'd never get anywhere
because I'd never had suction,
pull, you know, favor, drag,
well-oiled protection.
What horror to awake at night
and in the dimness see the light.
Time is white
mosquitoes bite
I've spent my life on nothing.
The thought that stings. How are you, Nothing,
sitting around with Something's wife.
Buzz and burn
is all I learn
I've spent my life on nothing.
I've pillowed and padded, pale and puffing
lifting household stuffing—
carpets, dishes
benches, fishes
I've spent my life in nothing.
Paul
when the leaves
fall
from their stems
that lie thick
on the walk
in the light
of the full note
the moon
playing
to leaves
when they leave
the little
thin things
Paul
The death of my poor father
leaves debts
and two small houses.
To settle this estate
a thousand fees arise—
I enrich the law.
Before my own death is certified,
recorded, final judgement
judged
taxes taxed
I shall own a book
of old Chinese poems
and binoculars
to probe the river
trees.
Hear
where her snow-grave is
the You
ah you
of mourning doves
My friend tree
I sawed you down
but I must attend
an older friend
the sun
Easter
A robin stood by my porch
and side-eyed
raised up
a worm
Get a load
of April's
fabulous
frog rattle—
lowland freight cars
in the night
Poet's work
Grandfather
advised me:
Learn a trade
I learned
to sit at desk
and condense
No layoff
from this
condensery
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Now in one year
a book published
and plumbing—
took a lifetime
to weep
a deep
trickle
I knew a clean man
but he was not for me.
Now I sew green aprons
over covered seats. He
wades the muddy water fishing,
fall in, dries his last pay-check
in the sun, smooths it out
in Leaves Of Grass. He's
the one for me.
Popcorn-can cover
screwed to the wall
over a hole
so the cold
can't mouse in
Your erudition
the elegant flower
of which
my blue chicory
at scrub end
of campus ditch
illuminates
(Excerpt from Lake Superior)
I'm sorry to have missed
Sand Lake
My dear one tells me
we did not
We watched a gopher there
My Life by Water
My life
by water—
Hear
spring's
first frog
or board
out on the cold
ground
giving
Muskrats
gnawing
doors
to wild green
arts and letters
Rabbits
raided
my lettuce
One boat
two—
pointed toward
my shore
thru birdstart
wingdrip
weed-drift
of the soft
and serious—
Water
Far reach
of sand
A man
bends to inspect
a shell
Himself
part coral
and mud
clam
Fall
We must pull
the curtains—
we haven't any
leaves
I walked
New Year's Day
beside the trees
my father now gone planted
evenly following
the road
Each
spoke
Katherine Ann
A poor poet
divining Gail
The baby looked toward me
and I was born—
to sound, light
lift, life
beyond my life
She wiggles her toe
I grow
I go to school to her
and she to me
and to Bonnie
Wilderness
You are the man
You are my other country
and I find it hard going
You are the prickly pear
You are the sudden violent storm
the torrent to raise the river
to float the wounded doe
Poems on this Lorine Niedecker Web site are from the book "Lorine Niedecker: Collected Works"
edited by Jenny Penberthy, published by the University of California Press, 2002
used with permission by the University of California Press.
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