The Cantos of Ezra Pound

Production, produce, and intention

Productive trees, their fruition granted by
Rain.  Pound did not sing perhaps but wrote
Of oak and his time in Italy where he saw
Drear waste and people born from oak wood.
Under the shade of columns he mused about
The mythical apple nymph maelids, pondering
Turquoise waters at the Dogana of San Marino.
I see the picture and wonder if those men crossed
Valencia too often; don’t you see the language
Of another east which claims there is no difference;

Produce is sweet, an apple or an orange is given
Respect but not as much as a pomegranate.
Our idealism must be snipped sometimes ripped apart.
Don’t let them rip your eyes out with your flinty fresco.
Up to the gate, Ezra would have walked with Mantegno.
Caravaggio’s motto, Without hope, without fear
Ousts Fausts from their hermetic bubble. We read

Pound’s “Tale of a Tribe” and wonder what our
Region says about it.  Why did you take this war path?
Obstruct this counterpane, I have door that is detached.
Pull it and nothing will happen.  There is no knob.
Of course you will not see all the industry in this town.
Salt has licked it up.  We had to knock the heroes down.
Intention will make its way to the corners of your room.
The intention of the daylight and the nightlights, vroom…
Of course it doesn’t matter here on this cloud, but it shall…

Reviews

[Skai Rain]

Well, if you can't pull open the door... you can always shove that s**t open, haha! This is a beautiful poem and I love the message. Keep it up!