Ron Silliman Feature

Ron Silliman

Poems from «Crow»

Crow was published by Ithaca House in 1971,
with blurbs from Larry Eigner and Robert Grenier.

Aint nobody
can write this…

            big black fat cat
            lazes
               at the white jeep
                                         How, how
horse’s neck!
window not as clear as I’d like to think
webs on the margin
                               But summer, dad!
                               like that!

            right in the gutter the
            gray
            tennis ball

bearing fruit fruit fruit?

chokecherry
rain
the rain is white

Idaho roads

            raisins
            ale
            elderberry

truck plows in the rain

                                    no
                                    thing like a vague
                                    flower
                                    in the concrete

          birdshit, the perfect
white, the
wide path cut

          Get Killed, Go To Jail, Allude

Do I like you? No.

         sun up just barely

                        fuschia,
                        fuschia

                                               my dog is syrup

ar
mytruck
the most example

            we’ll wheel
            wood
            in a real house

Rochdale
Kaleva
whatever that means
I  took a walk in the rain
implying nothing

the use
less
but beaut

iful clock,
the yellow clock,
striking

to look at:
                        maytag, maytag,
                                                      hwirrll,
                        what you do,
                        what you dododooo,
                                                            to
morrow we wanna
&
borrow but
but

                        what high lurking hornets buick the moose

                   not cared about
without care.  a truck.  a blue
truck. trucking.

on, o,  blocks of wood.  On
a lot.

Illinois

trees
what clump

but the furniture of the porch

dahl
ias
in a water

                                           a leaf stank

fearing
fire
sigh
wren

blue kettle
plumes
white steam

to form on the lemon

ceiling
drops

      mole
top
upon
among the
the tree the tree

              -at-

           sour hair

black leaf
the noon hill fog

Annie Mack

brush the ras

pberries
from your stone

worm

worms
in the belly o

riole

off in a far
harbor
often a fair
far apart
ment
goes water
faucet

          the intent
                    ions of light

clock that runs            “fo an owah”
                        or against

{

                          

(gegen)
against the light

         ticks

                                           “paint in the arm’s hair
                                           & farhead”

                      various like
                   this
                      the brush on a
                              canvas

      was to a drummer                                 Room

                              (is the space between chairs)
I want I
want                                                           Mate

a song like one in the walls

Editor’s note: The original layout of page 19 made it difficult to reproduce in HTML. Here is a JPG file of the page.  — Editor.