I have copied the final ModPoem from the Coursera site to my blog in order to preserve it when the ModPo course archive is wiped clean later this year.
All through the night-years—
Missing me one place search another
The sudden spoon is the same in no size. The sudden spoon is the wound in the decision.
I’m in a rogue state!
Let us describe
But here there are no cows.
what meadow yields so fragrant a leaf as your bright leaf?
But he died in darkness darker than his soul
marred and with stint of petals
My incident occurs
where nothing will grow
How shall we greet him
I too am not a bit tamed, I too am untranslatable,
What more is there to do, except stay?
A line just distinguishes it.
why not, buy a goddamn big car,
the genius hacker under alien skin
it certainly isn’t twenty sheep
I am entitled to be deeply shocked
as long as you are–
Back to the instruction manual which has made me dream of Guadalajara.
no one to drive the car
a single hurt color
Let us Describe
as though speech were a still performance
What living and buried speech is always vibrating here, what howls restrain’d by decorum
I dwell in Possibility –
The Truth must dazzle gradually
Loving repeating then in some is
touch, love, explain
if I tell him
I look up at blue sky of perfect lost purity
Leaning against the – Sun!
Let me recite what history teaches.
A silence already filled with noises,
hang fish eye soppy in
and the fall of sudden hands
Dreams! adorations! illuminations! religions! the whole boatload of sensitive bullshit!
That their merely being there
I ran farther than I.
Here, for a moment, we are joined.
Yet the sight of people making love is deeply moving.
He held the Magnum with both hands and ordered me to stop.
in silken mists
She ate her pudding in a pattern.
I dwell in Possibility
50% of a wonderful friend
That bird demonstrates the sky
I was born to be lonely
If I told him would he like it. Would he like it if I told him
I go and the days go by
Shut your eyes, and you can feel it for miles around.
the happy genius of my household?
I doubt not God is good, well-meaning, kind,
drunken taxicabs of Absolute Reality
If a man is a player, he will have no job
Fans stand up, yelling their.
Kanuck, Tuckahoe, Congressman, Cuff
On whom I lay a Yellow Eye –
Whatever becomes of this Song !
and I stopped breathing
one symbolic pingpong table
the sudden spoon is the wound
this cheese is more calm
Do set the morning Alarm !
It isnt for want
Will we hear your fret
Nose of mine! what will you not be smelling?
That single telephone is only one hair on the brontosaurus
If I told him would he like it.
with the absolute heart of the poem butchered out of their own bodies good to eat a thousand years
I just want to make it to lunch time.
Licking heavenly true celebs,
I dwell in possibility!
But Why ?
I went into the neon fruit supermarket
Make it new!
Remember my little granite pail
you are caught in the drift.
Five lines left for you