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

Weldon Kees was born...
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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

Cjsarett: a weldon kees morning. “the plague” — “we could hear the sound of beating clothes”
Cjsarett: weldon kees, “1926”— “an orange moon. i see the lives/of neighbors, mapped and marred.”
Bloemkolk: weldon kees.
Drei__dog: weldon kees
Plastic_bio: a good night for the fireplace to becrackling with flames - or so he figured,crumpling the papers he could only seeas testimonials to long plateaus of emptiness. - weldon kees
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Poem of the day

Edgar Albert Guest Poem
The Killing Place
 by Edgar Albert Guest

We're hiking along at a two-forty pace
We 're making life seem like a man-killing race,
With our nerves all on edge and our jaws firmly set
We go rushing along; with our brows lined with sweat
And our cheeks pale and drawn every minute we dash,
And the goal that we 're after is merely more cash.

We 're out for the money, the greenbacks and gold,
...

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