33
ANTHOLOGY
KENNETH BURKE
I BOUGHT a seed and planted it
a tree sprang up I tended it
through the dry summer watered it
the apples ripened in the fall
I broke the apples open and I found
the bitter ash of days
The garden was rich and blighted
thorns crowded through the wall
I watched an empty calendar
wait
Wait
something is waiting and hidden
magnificent kisses everlasting fame
around the corner of next week between
the edges of two days
Wait only
I shall heap your lap with pears
oranges nectarines and rubies
around your neck a chain of afternoons
your head crowned with forgetfulness
Wait only
a tense man in a narrow house
waiting without memory or hope
asking for much too much expecting nothing
A rain of days like ashes out of the sky
ROBERT M. COATES
Dipping an adroit hand into his hat he found:
Successively, a patent razor, gin, a ukulele, five cigar
bands,, 3-in-l, a jackknife with broken blades, a portable
bathtub and a Sunday Times, as well as freckles, Matisse, an
aeroplane and a white rabbit. The last he gave to the White
Queen, who ran away.
The red-haired man burst into genuine tears, they did
not change to pearls. He went to a dance in Harlem. Sud