Six Poems For Poetry Chicago Poem Rhyme Scheme

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	A
	A
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Limon tree very pretty	B
And the limon flower is sweet	C
But the fruit of the poor lemon	D
Is impossible to eat	C
In Riverside we saved the oranges first by smudging and left	E
the lemons last to fend for them selves They didn t usually	B
A no good crop Smudge pots	F
Didn t rouse them The music	G
Is right though The lemon tree	B
Could branch off into real magic Each flower in place We	B
Were sickened by the old lemon	D
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Pieces of the past arising out of the rubble Which evokes Eliot	H
and then evokes Suspicion Ghosts all of them Doers of no	I
good	J
The past around us is deeper than	K
Present events defy us the past	L
Has no such scruples No funeral processions for him He died	M
in agony The cock under the thumb	N
Rest us as corpses	O
We poets	P
Vain words	Q
For a funeral as I live and breathe and speak	R
Of good	J
And impossible	S
Dimensions	T
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In the far fat Vietnamese jungles nothing grows	U
In Guadacanal nothing grew but a kind of shrubbery that was	V
like the bar conversation of your best friend who was	V
not able to talk	W
	-
Sheets to the wind No	I
Wind being present	X
No	I
Lifeboats being present A jungle	S
Can t use life boats Dead	Y
From whatever bullets the snipers were Each	Z
Side of themselves Safe	A2
Ly delivered	B2
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The rind also called the skin of the lemon is difficult to	C2
understand	D2
It goes around itself in an oval quite unlike the orange which as	E2
anyone can tell is a fruit easily to be eaten	D
It can be crushed in canneries into all sorts of extracts which are	F2
still not lemons Oranges have no such fate They re pretty	B
much the same as they were Culls become frozen orange	G2
juice The best oranges are eaten	D
It s the shape of the lemon I guess that causes trouble It s	H2
ovalness it s rind This is where my love somehow stops	I2
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A moment s rest I can t get a moment s rest without sleeping	J2
with you Yet each moment	X
Seems so hard to figure Clocks	K2
Tell time In elaborate ceremonial they tick the seconds off	L2
what was to come	N
Wake us at six in the morning with messages someone had given	D
them the night before	M2
To pierce the darkness you need a clock that tells good time	N2
Something in the morning to hold on to	C2
As one gets craftier in poetry one sees the obvious messages	O
cocks for clocks but one forgets the love that gave them	O2
Time	N2
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The moment s rest And the bodies entangled and yet not	P2
entangled in sleeping Could we get	Q2
Out of our skins and dance The bedclothes	O
So awry that they seem like two skins	O
Or all the sorts of skins that we wore wear the orgasm	N
wanted to wear or would be wearing So utterly tangled	R2
A bad dream	S2
A moment s rest The skins	O
All of them	O2
Near	T2
I saw the ghost of myself and the ghost of yourself dancing	J2
without music	G
With	U2
Out	V2
Skin	W2
A good dream The	X2
Moment s rest	Y2

Jack Spicer

Six Poems For Poetry Chicago Poem Rhyme Scheme and Analysis

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