Poems by Mark Turbyfill

Gatherer of shells,
Flower-hunter,
Breather of slight winds--
There is much to surprise me.
...

Sometimes you smile,
(Now that it is all over)
And drop me little thin, gray words,
Like th...

Important pale asters
And leering lilies painted peach-color
Writhing to a futile destination, ...

O city of beauty,
They have spoken without understanding;
They have called you evil! ...

For that a great weariness has come upon me
Here in the remaining day of summer--
And the overg...

I climbed up the rough mountain-side
Through the forest of dead trees. I touched their s...

Life is more sweet than I
Knew: the shifted scene
Less wavered, more trimmed with light,
Tha...

We two
Storm-sheathed buds
Slept
Upon the wild plum bough. Oh, once in April late,
...

The dogged rain
Of unawakened growths
Is hurling down its spear-points
Into our walks and stre...

I have fed on the radiance of my Beloved
Lying beneath the flowering pear tree.
Her breasts are...

I shall tell you:
I am seeing and seeing strangers
Who are not strangers,
For there is somet...

He stands,
An ancient trunk,
Rooted deep in earth--
And we,
A thousand new, thin leaves, ...

I cannot tell you what it is waits beyond love;
Nor what it means, the still hour after. ...

I She is touched with a beauty the sere of reeds by an old water.
Her being is of a duality: th...