Cubist Poetry

by rivercramer

Trying my hand in Cubist Poetry. Early Rexroth and Reverdy being my inspiration, I’ll post when complete.


The hardly open eyes

The hand on the other shore

The sky

And everything that happens there

The leaning door

A head sticks out

From the frame
And through the shutters
You can see out
The sun fills everything
But the trees are still green

The falling hour

It gets warmer

And the houses are smaller
The passersby go less quickly
And always look up

The lamp shines on us now

Looking far away
We could see the light


We were happy

That evening

At the other house where somebody waits for us

-Pierre Reverdy