George Oppen

Truth also is the pursuit of it:
Like happiness, and it will not stand.
Even the verse begins to eat away
In the acid. Pursuit, pursuit;
A wind moves a little,
Moving in a circle, very cold.
How shall we say?
In ordinary discourse—
We must talk now. I am no longer sure of the words,
The clockwork of the world. What is inexplicable
Is the 'preponderance of objects,' The sky lights
Daily with that predominance
And we have become the present.
We must talk now. Fear
Is fear. But we abandon one another.
From New Collected Poems by George Oppen, copyright © 1965 by George Oppen. Reprinted by permission of New Directions Publishing Corp.

Poems by This Author

Discrete Series by George Oppen
If It All Went Up in Smoke by George Oppen
that smoke
Image of the Engine by George Oppen
Myself I Sing by George Oppen
Me! he says, hand on his chest
Of Being Numerous, 12 by George Oppen
'In these explanations it is presumed that an experiencing
Of Being Numerous, 13 by George Oppen
unable to begin
Of Being Numerous, 15 by George Oppen
Chorus (androgynous): 'Find me
Of Being Numerous, 24 by George Oppen
In this nation
Of Being Numerous, 32 by George Oppen
Only that it should be beautiful
Of Being Numerous, 33 by George Oppen
Which is ours, which is ourselves,
Of Being Numerous, 40 by George Oppen
The capitol grows upon one in time
Psalm by George Oppen
In the small beauty of the forest
Semite by George Oppen
what art and anti-art to lead us by the sharpness
Street by George Oppen
The Forms of Love by George Oppen
Parked in the fields
Who Shall Doubt by George Oppen
consciousness / in itself