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Introduction: How to Keep and Feed a Muse
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Where Robot Mice and Robot Men Run Round in Robot Towns
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Prologue
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Byzantium I Come Not From
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What I Do Is Me—For That I Came
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I Am the Residue of All My Daughters' Lives
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We March Back to Olympus
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Ghost at the Window, Hive on the Hearth
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Boy Pope Behold! Dog Bishop See!
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I Have a Brother, Mostly Dead
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Why Viking Lander, Why the Planet Mars?
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We Have Our Arts So We Won't Die of Truth
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I Die, So Dies the World
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My Love, She Weeps at Many Things
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Death as a Conversation Piece
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Remembrance II
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J.C.—Summer '28
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The Young Galileo Speaks
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The Beast Atop the Building, the Tiger on the Stairs
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Why Didn't Someone Tell Me About Crying in the Shower?
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Somewhere a Band Is Playing
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The Nefertiti—Tut Express
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Telephone Friends, in Far Places
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Death for Dinner, Doom for Lunch
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Out of Dickinson by Poe, or The Only Begotten Son of Emily and Edgar
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Lo, the Ghost of Our Least Favorite Uncle
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That Son of Richard III
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A Poem with a Note: All England Empty, the People Flown
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The Syncopated Hunchbacked Man
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If Man Is Dead, Then God Is Slain
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Thoughts on Visiting the Main Rocket Assembly Building at Cape Canaveral for the First Time
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Their Names in Dust, Their Dates in Grass
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Long Thoughts on Best-Sellers by Worst People
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The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope
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The Haunted Computer and the Android Pope
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Go Not with Ruins in Your Mind
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Poem from a Train Window
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Nor Is the Aim of Man to Stay Beneath a Stone
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Joy Is the Grace We Say to God
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They Have Not Seen the Stars
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This Attic Where the Meadow Greens
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Abandon in Place
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The Great Man Speaks
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Shakespeare the Father, Freud the
Son
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A Miracle of Popes, All with One Face!
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The Bike Repairmen
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The East Is Up!
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If Peaches Could Be Painters
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Once the Years Were Numerous and the Funerals Few
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Satchmo Saved!
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God Blows the Whistle
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The Infirmities of Genius
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Farewell Summer
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The Dogs of Mesopotamia—Dyed by Spring
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Two Impressionists
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And Yet the Burning Bush Has Voice
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To an Early Morning Darning-Needle Dragonfly
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Poem Written on a Train Just Leaving a Small Southern Town
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Too Much
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There Are No Ghosts in Catholic Spain
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I Am God's Greatest Basking Hound
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Doing Is Being
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Ode to an Utterance by Norman Corwin, Who Punned the First Line, and Must Suffer the Rest
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Nectar and Ambrosia
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We Are the Reliquaries of Lost Time
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Anybody Who Can Make Great Strawberry Shortcake Can't Be All Bad
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And Have You Seen God's Birds Collide?
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You Can't Go Home Again, Not Even If You Stay There!
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Schliemann
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Of What Is Past, or Passing, or To Come
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Within a Summer Frame
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Ode to Ty Cobb, Who Stole First Base from Second
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GBS and the Loin of Pork
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Let Us Live But Safely, No Bright Flags Be Ours
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Everyone's Got to Be Somewhere
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The Past Is the Only Dead Thing that Smells Sweet
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Ode to Trivia
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Good Shakespeare's Son, the Typing Ape
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Que Bella! The Flagella of the Beasts
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Pope Android Seventh
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Remembrance
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Pretend at Being Blind, Which Calls Truth Near
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The Boys Across the Street Are Driving My Young Daughter Mad
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Old Ahab's Friend, and Friend to Noah, Speaks His Piece
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When Elephants Last in the Dooryard Bloomed
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Darwin, the Curious
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Darwin, in the Fields
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Darwin, Wandering Home at Dawn
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Evidence
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Telling Where the Sweet Gums Are
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Emily Dickinson, Where Are You? Herman Melville Called Your Name Last Night in His Sleep!
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O Give a Fig for Newton, Praise for Him!
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I Was the Last, the Very Last
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Man Is the Animal that Cries
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N
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Air to Lavoisier
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Women Know Themselves; All Men Wonder
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Death in Mexico
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All Flesh Is One; What Matter Scores?
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The Machines, Beyond Shylock
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The Beast Upon the Wire
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Christ, Old Student in a New School
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This Time of Kites
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If You Will Wait Just Long Enough, All Goes
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For a Daughter, Traveling
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Old Mars, Then Be a Hearth to Us
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The Thing That Goes by Night: The Self That Lazes Sun
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Groon
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That Woman on the Lawn
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A Train Station Sign Viewed from an Ancient Locomotive Passing Through Long After Midnight
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Please to Remember the Fifth of November: A Birthday Poem for Susan Marguerite
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That Is Our Eden's Spring, Once Promised
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The Fathers and Sons Banquet
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Touch Your Solitude to Mine
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God Is a Child; Put Toys in the Tomb
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Ode to Electric Ben
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Some Live Like Lazarus
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These Unsparked Flints, These Uncut Gravestone Brides
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And This Did Dante Do
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You Can Go Home Again
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And Dark Our Celebration Was
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Mrs. Harriet Hadden Atwood, Who Played the Piano for Thomas A. Edison for the World's First
Phonograph Record, Is Dead at 105
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What Seems a Balm Is Salt to Ancient Wounds
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Here All Beautifully Collides
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God for a Chimney Sweep
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To Prove That Cowards Do Speak Best and True and Well
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I, Tom, and My Electric Gran
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Boys Are Always Running Somewhere
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O to Be a Boy in a Belfry
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If I Were Epitaph
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If Only We Had Taller Been
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Index of Poem Titles