Best Modernist Poems

They were cheaters but they were real,
the old bitoks. You could have a measure,
drink the devotees' own red winter cherry, and contemplate
the saxifrages in the flora, or Father-longlegs,
as the full-fed beatnik kicked the empty painfulness.
 
The conspiracy of the second rathskeller
continued to reverberate.
Everyone wanted to...

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thinking like Stein but
drinking beer from a stein
remembering German days
not Paris

contradicting and refuting 
Gertrude's flowery words 
for
a muse is a muse is 

but 
don't 
include 
my Musa...

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Celia from 'A' 
  tenures the lot
Standing near those Grey
  Bay's rocky scabs
slapp'd by tide
Stagnant water
  Green at the feet.

 Into time too
From womb birth'd
briefly hearts
  Remark regularly,
Geiger counter

Measuring, drone
Circulating 
A style that too
  Tho pound for
Pound bests itself

Croons when...

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