About this entry

You’re currently reading “carl sandburg | the sandburg range,” an entry on Bashō's Road

Published:
11.17.09 / 12am
Category:
Carl Sandburg

carl sandburg | the sandburg range

The sun burns its gold
and this to you
is home and mother.

The night frames its stars
and this to you
is a book and prayers.

[from: THE SANDBURG RANGE]

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The fog comes
on little cat feet.

It sits looking
over harbor and city
on silent haunches
and then moves on.

[from CHICAGO POEMS]

a

I will be the word of the people.
Mine will be the bleeding mouth
from which the gag is snatched.
I will say everything.

[from THE COMPLETE POEMS]

a

a