As we are so wonderfully done with each other We can walk into our separate sleep On floors of music where the milkwhite cloak of childhood lies…
an American poet and novelist. Though he denied any direct connection, Patchen's work and ideas regarding the role of artists paralleled those of the Dadaists, the Beats, and Surrealists. Patchen's ambitious body of work also foreshadowed literary art-forms ranging from reading poetry to jazz accompaniment to his late experiments with visual poetry (which he called his "picture poems"). In 1911, Kenneth Patchen was born in Niles, Ohio. His lifelong romance with writing commenced at age twelve, when he took up keeping a diary and reading the works of famous writers. His first published work was in his high school newspaper. After working for two years with his father, Patchen when on to college in Alexander Meiklejohn's Experimental College for one year, and then to the University of Wisconsin. He grew bored of his studies, and began to wander around the US. He continued his writing, and in 1934, he married Miriam Oikemus. Patchen dislocated a disk in his spine, an incessantly painful injury, which he lived with for a span of nearly thirty years, before seeking treatment. He died in 1972. Over the course of his career, which included about forty books, Patchen tried his hand at several types of poetry: concrete poetry, drama, prose, jazz, verse, and the anti-novel. He even published self-illustrated writings, in his own words, were "painted books." Henry Miller called Patchen "The Man of Anger and Light". In his lifetime, he produced many books and poems. His poetry on atrocities of war is especially remembered.)
Kenneth Patchen şiirleri
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Be music, night, That her sleep may go Where angels have their pale tall choirs…
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Wherever the dead are there they are and Nothing more. But you and I can expect To see angels in the meadowgrass that look Like cows -…
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The old guy put down his beer. Son, he said, (and a girl came over to the table where we were: asked us by Jack Christ to buy her a drink.)…
Man-dirt and stomachs that the sea unloads; rockets of quick lice crawling inland, planting their damn flags, putting their malethings in any hole that will stand still, yapping bl…
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Speak softly; sun going down Out of sight. Come near me now. Dear dying fall of wings as birds…
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In the footsteps of the walking air Sky's prophetic chickens weave their cloth of awe And hillsides lift green wings in somber journeying.…
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I believe that a young woman Is standing in a circle of lions In the other side of the sky.…
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Let us have madness openly. O men Of my generation. Let us follow The footsteps of this slaughtered age:…
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We must be slow and delicate; return the policeman's stare with some esteem, remember this is not a shadow play of doves and geese but this is now…
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The Dove walks with sticky feet Upon the green crowns of the almond tree, Its feathers smeared over with warmth Like honey…
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Tiny green birds skate over the surface of the room. A naked girl prepares a basin with steaming water, And in the corner away from the hearth, the red wheels Of an up-ended chario…
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So it is the duty of the artist to discourage all traces of shame To extend all boundaries To fog them in right over the plate To kill only what is ridiculous…
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These of living emanate a formidable light, Which is equal to death, and when used Gives increase eternally. What fortifies in separate thought…
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The deer is humble, lovely as God made her I watch her eyes and think of wonder owned These strange priests enter the cathedral of woods…
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