Tuesday, August 20, 2013

While August meadows somewhere clasp his brow

  There are the local orchard boughs
  With apples - August boughs - their unspilled spines
  Inter-wrenched and flocking with gold spousal wine
  Like hummocks drifting in the autumn shine

Hart Crane
The Poems of Hart Crane
Marc Simon, editor
The Wine Menagerie
  [posting title]
May, 1926
There Are the Local ...
  [text, entire poem]
August, 1930
Liveright, 1989©

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