PALS
TAKE a hold now / On the silver handles here,
WHO AM I
❦
MY head knocks against the stars.
My feet are on the hilltops.
My finger-tips are in the valleys and shores of
universal life.
Down in the sounding foam of primal things I
reach my hands and play with pebbles of
destiny.
I have been to hell and back many times.
I know all about heaven, for I have talked with God.
I dabble in the blood and guts of the terrible.
I know the passionate seizure of beauty
And the marvelous rebellion of man at all signs
reading Keep Off.
My name is Truth and I am the most elusive captive
in the universe.
More poems by Carl Sandburg
I AM THE PEOPLE, THE MOB
I AM the people--the mob--the crowd--the mass. / Do you know that all the great work of the world is
MURMURINGS IN A FIELD HOSPITAL
[They picked him up in the grass where he had lain two / days in the rain with a piece of shrapnel in his lungs.]
PLOWBOY
AFTER the last red sunset glimmer, / Black on the line of a low hill rise,