Karl Shapiro Quotes

My soul is now her day, my day her night, So I lie down, and so I rise;
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Nostalgia (l. 11-12). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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He shall eat flowers, Chew honey and spit out gall. They shall all smile And love and pity him. His death shall be by drowning.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Poet (l. 63-66). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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Lastly, his tomb Shall list and founder in the troughs of grass And none shall speak his name.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Poet (l. 71-73). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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Oh, it is I, Incredibly skinny, stooped, and neat as pie, Ignorant as dirt, erotic as an ape, Dreamy as puberty—with dirty hair!
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Poet (l. 9-12). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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To girls and wives always alive and fated; To men and scholars always dead like Greek And always mistranslated.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Poet (l. 38-40). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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Sentio ergo sum: he feels his way And words themselves stand up for him like Braille And punch and perforate his parchment ear.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Poet (l. 44-46). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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The roof of England fell Great Paris tolled her bell And China staunched her milk and wept for bread
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Scyros (l. 16-18). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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The doctor punched my vein The captain called me Cain Upon my belly sat the sow of fear
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. Scyros (l. 1-3). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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I see slip to the curb the long machines Out of whose warm and windowed rooms pirouette Shellacked with silk and light The hard legs of our women.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. The Dome of Sunday (l. 17-20). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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No direct hit to smash the shatter-proof And lodge at last the quivering needle Clean in the eye of one who stands transfixed In fascination of her brightness.
Karl Shapiro (b. 1913), U.S. poet, critic. The Dome of Sunday (l. 45-48). . . New & Selected Poems, 1940-1986 [Karl Shapiro]. (1987) University of Chicago Press.
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