All Poems

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Gorgeous Surfaces

© Thomas Lux

They are, the surfaces, gorgeous: a master
pastry chef at work here, the dips and whorls,
the wrist-twist
squeezes of cream from the tube

The Town Of Hay

© Sam Walter Foss

The town of Hay is far away,

The town of Hay is far;

Henry Clay's Mouth

© Thomas Lux

Senator, statesman, speaker of the House,
exceptional dancer, slim,
graceful, ugly. Proclaimed, before most, slavery
an evil, broker

When mighty roast beef was the Englishman's food,
It ennobled our hearts, and enriched our blood;
Our soldiers were brave, and our courtiers were good.
_O, the Roast Beef of old England,
And O, the old English Roast Beef_!

Plague Victims Catapulted Over Walls Into Besieged City

© Thomas Lux

Early germ
warfare. The dead
hurled this way look like wheels
in the sky. Look: there goes

To The Earl Of Clare

© George Gordon Byron

The recollectlon seems alone
Dearer than all the joys I've known,
When distant far from you:
Though pain, 'tis still a pleasing pain,
To trace those days and hours again,
And sigh again, adieu!

The Road That Runs Beside The River

© Thomas Lux

follows the river as it bends
along the valley floor,
going the way it must.
Where water goes, so goes the road,

The New York Skyscraper

© Madison Julius Cawein

The Woolworth Building
ENORMOUSLY it lifts
Its tower against the splendor of the west;
Like some wild dream that drifts

Refrigerator, 1957

© Thomas Lux

More like a vault -- you pull the handle out
and on the shelves: not a lot,
and what there is (a boiled potato
in a bag, a chicken carcass

A Voice From The Factories

© Caroline Norton

WHEN fallen man from Paradise was driven,
Forth to a world of labour, death, and care;
Still, of his native Eden, bounteous Heaven
Resolved one brief memorial to spare,

The Man Into Whose Yard You Should Not Hit Your Ball

© Thomas Lux

each day mowed
and mowed his lawn, his dry quarter acre,
the machine slicing a wisp
from each blade's tip. Dust storms rose

Alexis And Dora

© Johann Wolfgang von Goethe

FARTHER and farther away, alas! at each moment the vessel

Hastens, as onward it glides, cleaving the foam-cover'd flood!

A Library Of Skulls

© Thomas Lux

Shelves and stacks and shelves of skulls, a Dewey
Decimal number inked on each unfurrowed forehead.
Here's a skull
who, before he lost his fleshy parts

A Little Tooth

© Thomas Lux

Your baby grows a tooth, then two,
and four, and five, then she wants some meat
directly from the bone. It's all

Love's Pictures

Like the blush upon the rose
When the wooing south wind speaks,
Kissing soft its petals,
Are thy cheeks.

Lucky

© Thomas Lux

One sweet pound of filet mignon
sizzles on the roadside. Let's say a hundred yards below
the buzzard. The buzzard
sees no cars or other buzzards

On Beauty

Beauty deserves the homage of the muse:
Shall mine, rebellious, the dear theme refuse?
No; while my breast respires the vital air,
Wholly I am devoted to the fair.