Who is Weldon Kees

Harry Weldon Kees (February 24, 1914 – disappeared July 18, 1955) was an American poet, painter, literary critic, novelist, playwright, jazz pianist, short story writer, and filmmaker. Despite his brief career, Kees is considered an important mid-twentieth-century poet of the same generation as John Berryman, Elizabeth Bishop, and Robert Lowell. His work has been immensely influential on subsequent generations of poets writing in English and other languages and his collected poems have been included in many anthologies. Harold Bloom lists the publication of Kees's first book The Last Man (1943) as an important event in the chronology of his textbook Modern American Poetry as well as a book worthy of his Western Canon.

Early life and education

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Weldon Kees Poems

  • Year's End
    The state cracked where they left your breath
    No longer instrument. Along the shore
    The sand ripped up, and the newer blood
    Streaked like a vein to every monument. ...
  • A Musician's Wife
    Between the visits to the shock ward
    The doctors used to let you play
    On the old upright Baldwin
    Donated by a former patient ...
  • The Party
    The obscene hostess, mincing in the hall,
    Gathers the guests around a crystal ball.
    It is on the whole an exciting moment;
    Mrs. Lefevre stares with her one good eye; ...
  • For My Daughter
    Looking into my daughterâ??s eyes I read
    Beneath the innocence of morning flesh
    Concealed, hintings of death she does not heed.
    Coldest of winds have blown this hair, and mesh ...
  • Girl At Midnight
    Then walk the floor, or twist upon your bed
    While bullets, cold and blind, rush backward from the targetâ??s eye,
    And say, â??I will not dream that dream again. I will not dream
    Of long-spent whispers vanishing down corridors ...
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Top 10 most used topics by Weldon Kees

Sun 11 World 10 Room 10 Long 9 Door 9 Night 9 Death 7 Light 7 Away 7 Time 7

Weldon Kees Quotes

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Comments about Weldon Kees

Tulip_incognito: january by weldon kees. a calming poetry reading for the last week of january. sit back, relax, and let the words wash over you. you’ve made it to 2023. how was this first month for you? what are you grateful for today? what are you looking forward to tomorrow? rest when you need
Nonchalantly_: literature in america, it dies as it’s born. weldon kees died before the newport jazz festival took place—but there is some grand foreshadowing, some grand foreboding, in this poem, that some of benn’s poems might capture, but i do not know. ‘capture’ is a strong word. usher in.
Consertum: morning: blue, cold and still. eyes that have stared too long stare at the wedge of light at the end of the frozen room where snow on the windowsill, packed and cold as a life, winters the sense of wrong weldon kees / january
Kulambq: to start off the new year. weldon kees' poem 'january.'
Trodgneiss: the bridge by william heick. weldon kees shot much of the footage.
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Poem of the day

Charles Baudelaire Poem
Le Vampire
 by Charles Baudelaire

Toi qui, comme un coup de couteau,
Dans mon coeur plaintif es entrée;
Toi qui, forte comme un troupeau
De démons, vins, folle et parée,

De mon esprit humilié
Faire ton lit et ton domaine;
-Infâme à qui je suis lié

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