George Oppen

[from George Oppen's New Collected Poems (with CD), New Directions, 2008]

The mast
Inaudibly soars; bole-like, tapering:
Sail flattens from it beneath the wind.
The limp water holds the boat's round
                          sides. Sun
Slants dry light on the deck.
                          Beneath us glide
Rocks, sands, and unrimmed holes.

. . .

No interval of manner
Your body in the sun.
You? A solid, this that the dress
                          insisted,
Your face unaccented, your mouth a mouth?
                          Practical knees:
It is you who truly
Excel the vegetable,
The fitting of grasses — more bare than
                          that.
Pointedly bent, your elbow on a car-edge
Incognito as summer
Among mechanics.