In a Breath: Difference between revisions
(Created page with "<meta author="Sandburg, Carl" year_of_publication="1916" genre="Poetry" publisher="Ney York: Henry Holt and Company" journal="Chicago Poems" page_range="54" /> <annotations> == In a Breath == <paragraph keywords="car, engine, sound, road, road surface, traffic, urban"> <poem> High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors.Women trap sing along in flimsy clothes catching play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes. <...") |
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year_of_publication="1916" | year_of_publication="1916" | ||
genre="Poetry" | genre="Poetry" | ||
publisher=" | publisher="Henry Holt and Company" | ||
journal="Chicago Poems" | journal="Chicago Poems" | ||
page_range="54" | page_range="54" | ||
/> | /> | ||
<annotations> | <annotations> | ||
<paragraph keywords=" | |||
<paragraph keywords=""> | |||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
::::: <i>To the Williamson Brothers</i> | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
<paragraph keywords=""> | <paragraph keywords="car, sound, road, road surface, traffic, urban"> | ||
<poem> | |||
High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors. Women trapsing along in flimsy clothes catching play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes. | |||
</poem> | |||
</paragraph> | |||
<paragraph keywords="road, road surface, dust, temperature, pedestrian"> | |||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
Inside the playhouse are movies from under the sea. | Inside the playhouse are movies from under the sea. From the heat of pavements and the dust of sidewalks, passers-by go in a breath to be witnesses of large cool sponges, large cool fishes, large cool valleys and ridges of coral spread silent in the soak of the ocean floor thousands of years. | ||
From the heat of pavements and the dust of | |||
large cool sponges, large cool fishes, large cool | |||
the ocean floor thousands of years. | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
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<paragraph keywords=""> | <paragraph keywords=""> | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
A naked swimmer dives. A knife in his right hand | A naked swimmer dives. A knife in his right hand shoots a streak at the throat of a shark. The tail of the shark lashes. One swing would kill the swimmer... Soon the knife goes into the soft underneck of the veering fish... Its mouthful of teeth, each tooth a dagger itself, set row on row, glistens when the shuddering, yawning cadaver is hauled up by the brothers of the swimmer. | ||
shoots a streak at the throat of a shark. The tail | |||
of the shark lashes. One swing would kill the | |||
each tooth a dagger itself, set row on row, glistens | |||
when the shuddering, yawning cadaver is hauled up | |||
by the brothers of the swimmer. | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
<paragraph keywords=" | <paragraph keywords="road, sound, car, sunshine, urban"> | ||
<poem> | <poem> | ||
Outside in the street is the murmur and singing of life | Outside in the street is the murmur and singing of life in the sun—horses, motors, women trapsing along in flimsy clothes, play of sun-fire in their blood. | ||
in the | |||
in flimsy clothes, play of sun-fire in their blood. | |||
</poem> | </poem> | ||
</paragraph> | </paragraph> | ||
</annotations> | </annotations> | ||
Latest revision as of 15:21, 16 July 2024
| Author | Sandburg, Carl |
|---|---|
| Genre | Poetry |
| Journal or Book | Chicago Poems |
| Publisher | Henry Holt and Company |
| Year of Publication | 1916 |
| Pages | 54 |
| Additional information | - |
To the Williamson Brothers
High noon. White sun flashes on the Michigan Avenue asphalt. Drum of hoofs and whirr of motors. Women trapsing along in flimsy clothes catching play of sun-fire to their skin and eyes.
Inside the playhouse are movies from under the sea. From the heat of pavements and the dust of sidewalks, passers-by go in a breath to be witnesses of large cool sponges, large cool fishes, large cool valleys and ridges of coral spread silent in the soak of the ocean floor thousands of years.
A naked swimmer dives. A knife in his right hand shoots a streak at the throat of a shark. The tail of the shark lashes. One swing would kill the swimmer... Soon the knife goes into the soft underneck of the veering fish... Its mouthful of teeth, each tooth a dagger itself, set row on row, glistens when the shuddering, yawning cadaver is hauled up by the brothers of the swimmer.
Outside in the street is the murmur and singing of life in the sun—horses, motors, women trapsing along in flimsy clothes, play of sun-fire in their blood.
