No world is intact, by Alice Notley

No world is intact
and no one cares about you.

I leaned down over
don’t care about, I care about
you
I leaned down over the

world in portrayal
of carefulness, answering

something you couldn’t say.
walking or fallen and you
were supposed
to give therapy to me—

me leaning down
brushing with painted feathers
to the left chance your operatic,
broken

book.

World’s Bliss, by Alice Notley

The men & women sang & played
they sleep by singing, what
shall I say of the most
poignant on earth the most glamorous
loneliest sought after people
those poets wholly beautiful
desolate aureate, death is a
powerful instinctive emotion—
but who would be released from
a silver skeleton? gems
& drinking cups—This
skull is Helen—who would not
be released from the
Book of Knowledge? Why
should a maiden lie on a moor
for seven nights & a day? And
he is a maiden, he is & she
on the grass the flower the spray
where they lie eating primroses
grown crazy with sorrow & all
the beauties of old—oh each poet’s a
beautiful human girl who must die.


Others you might like:

The Poem as Mask,
by Muriel Rukeyser
I am the People, the Mob,
by Carl Sandburg
A Litany in Time of Plague,
by Thomas Nashe
Diving into the Wreck,
by Adrienne Rich 
Duende,
by Tracy K. Smith