Monte Carlo Memories

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1. The Pigeon Shooting They say that Monte Carlo is A sunny place for shady people; But I’m not in the gambling biz, And sober as a parish steeple. So though this paradisal spot The devil’s playground of the rich is, I love it and I love it not, As men may sometimes fall for bitches. I lazed beneath […]...
2. Memories Oft I remember those I have known In other days, to whom my heart was lead As by a magnet, and who are not dead, But absent, and their memories overgrown With other thoughts and troubles of my own, As graves with grasses are, and at their head The stone with moss and lichens so […]...
3. Next, Please Always too eager for the future, we Pick up bad habits of expectancy. Something is always approaching; every day Till then we say, Watching from a bluff the tiny, clear Sparkling armada of promises draw near. How slow they are! And how much time they waste, Refusing to make haste! Yet still they leave us […]...
4. Unlyric Love Song It is time to give that-of-myself which I could not at first: To offer you now at last my least and my worst: Minor, absurd preserves, The shell’s end-curves, A document kept at the back of a drawer, A tin hidden under the floor, Recalcitrant prides and hesitations: To pile them carefully in a desparate […]...
5. A Man Young And Old: VI. His Memories We should be hidden from their eyes, Being but holy shows And bodies broken like a thorn Whereon the bleak north blows, To think of buried Hector And that none living knows. The women take so little stock In what I do or say They’d sooner leave their cosseting To hear a jackass bray; My […]...
6. MEMORIES OF THE FIFTIES Eggshell and Wedgwood Blue were just two Of the range on the colour cards Dulux Tailored to our taste in the fifties, Brentford nylons, Formica table tops and Fablon shelf-covering in original oak or Spruce under neon tubes and Dayglo shades. Wartime brown and green went out, along with The Yorkist Range, the wire-mesh food […]...
7. Memories of West Street and Lepke Only teaching on Tuesdays, book-worming In pajamas fresh from the washer each morning, I hog a whole house on Boston’s “hardly passionate Marlborough Street,” Where even the man Scavenging filth in the back alley trash cans, Has two children, a beach wagon, a helpmate, And is “a young Republican.” I have a nine months’ daughter, […]...
8. Drunken Memories Of Anne Sexton The first and last time I met My ex-lover Anne Sexton was at A protest poetry reading against Some anti-constitutional war in Asia When some academic son of a bitch, To test her reputation as a drunk, Gave her a beer glass full of wine After our reading. She drank It all down while staring […]...
9. Arabian Nights When the call of the hudud, Echoes through the palm fronds Carrying in their mists, Visions, memories: Caravans of high spirited steads, Crisscrossing the endless seas of sand, Rushing through the oasis, Free, yet under control. Of women washing in the hot springs, Sheltered in the evergreen palms, Weaving baskets, Cooking, sewing, scampering after the […]...
10. Ruins Ruins in Rome are four a penny, And here along the Appian Way I see the monuments of many Esteemed almighty in their day. . . . Or so he makes me understand – My glib guide of the rubber bus, And tells me with a gesture grand: “Behold! the tomb of Romulus.” Whereat I […]...
11. 12. Song-The Lass of Cessnock Banks ON Cessnock banks a lassie dwells; Could I describe her shape and mein; Our lasses a’ she far excels, An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. She’s sweeter than the morning dawn, When rising Phoebus first is seen, And dew-drops twinkle o’er the lawn; An’ she has twa sparkling roguish een. She’s stately like yon […]...
12. Letter Home New Orleans, November 1910 Four weeks have passed since I left, and still I must write to you of no work. I’ve worn down The soles and walked through the tightness Of my new shoes calling upon the merchants, Their offices bustling. All the while I kept thinking My plain English and good writing would […]...
13. At leisure is the Soul At leisure is the Soul That gets a Staggering Blow The Width of Life before it spreads Without a thing to do It begs you give it Work But just the placing Pins Or humblest Patchwork Children do To Help its Vacant Hands...
14. The Plough Of Time Night closed my windows and The sky became a crystal house The crystal windows glowed The moon Shown through them Through the whole house of crystal A single star beamed down Its crystal cable And drew a plough through the earth Unearthing bodies clasped together Couples embracing Around the earth They clung together everywhere Emitting […]...
15. Broken Dreams There is grey in your hair. Young men no longer suddenly catch their breath When you are passing; But maybe some old gaffer mutters a blessing Because it was your prayer Recovered him upon the bed of death. For your sole sake – that all heart’s ache have known, And given to others all heart’s […]...
16. Today If ever there were a spring day so perfect, So uplifted by a warm intermittent breeze That it made you want to throw Open all the windows in the house And unlatch the door to the canary’s cage, Indeed, rip the little door from its jamb, A day when the cool brick paths And the […]...
17. What shall I do it whimpers so What shall I do it whimpers so This little Hound within the Heart All day and night with bark and start And yet, it will not go Would you untie it, were you me Would it stop whining if to Thee I sent it even now? It should not tease you By your chair or, […]...
18. "I Love You Sweatheart&quot A man risked his life to write the words. A man hung upside down (an idiot friend Holding his legs?) with spray paint To write the words on a girder fifty feet above A highway. And his beloved, The next morning driving to work…? His words are not (meant to be) so unique. Does she […]...
19. In the New Garden in all the Parts IN the new garden, in all the parts, In cities now, modern, I wander, Though the second or third result, or still further, primitive yet, Days, places, indifferent-though various, the same, Time, Paradise, the Mannahatta, the prairies, finding me unchanged, Death indifferent-Is it that I lived long since? Was I buried very long ago? For […]...
20. A Winter Day I The air is silent save where stirs A bugling breeze among the firs; The virgin world in white array Waits for the bridegroom kiss of day; All heaven blooms rarely in the east Where skies are silvery and fleeced, And o’er the orient hills made glad The morning comes in wonder clad; Oh, ’tis […]...
21. At Cheyenne Young Lochinvar came in from the West, With fringe on his trousers and fur on his vest; The width of his hat-brim could nowhere be beat, His No. Brogans were chuck full of feet, His girdle was horrent with pistols and things, And he flourished a handful of aces on kings. The fair Mariana sate […]...
22. Rain Has Fallen All the Day Rain has fallen all the day. O come among the laden trees: The leaves lie thick upon the way Of memories. Staying a little by the way Of memories shall we depart. Come, my beloved, where I may Speak to your heart....
23. Daybreak In Alabama When I get to be a composer I’m gonna write me some music about Daybreak in Alabama And I’m gonna put the purtiest songs in it Rising out of the ground like a swamp mist And falling out of heaven like soft dew. I’m gonna put some tall tall trees in it And the scent […]...
24. Said The Poet To The Analyst My business is words. Words are like labels, Or coins, or better, like swarming bees. I confess I am only broken by the sources of things; As if words were counted like dead bees in the attic, Unbuckled from their yellow eyes and their dry wings. I must always forget who one words is able […]...
25. Carbonara eyes Nicky said I couldn’t write, she’s got a charming Sense of social etiquette – given she’s a bitch (the canine sort, can’t spell for shit or even write A word) but then she has the most expressive eyes. So what she said was no surprise, she’d heard My lamentations, licked my hands, rested forepaws On […]...
26. Margaret Fuller Slack I would have been as great as George Eliot But for an untoward fate. For look at the photograph of me made by Penniwit, Chin resting on hand, and deep-set eyes Gray, too, and far-searching. But there was the old, old problem: Should it be celibacy, matrimony or unchastity? Then John Slack, the rich druggist, […]...
27. Take Back the Virgin Page Written on Returning a Blank Book Take back the virgin page, White and unwritten still; Some hand, more calm and sage, The leaf must fill. Thoughts come, as pure as light Pure as even you require; But, oh! each word I write Love turns to fire. Yet let me keep the book: Oft shall my […]...
28. Sonnet 05 Seeing you have not come with me, nor spent This day’s suggestive beauty as we ought, I have gone forth alone and been content To make you mistress only of my thought. And I have blessed the fate that was so kind In my life’s agitations to include This moment’s refuge where my sense can […]...
29. Chiarascuro: Rose He Fill your bowl with roses: the bowl, too, have of crystal. Sit at the western window. Take the sun Between your hands like a ball of flaming crystal, Poise it to let it fall, but hold it still, And meditate on the beauty of your existence; The beauty of this, that you exist at […]...
30. Bird Sanctuary Between the cliff-rise and the beach A slip of emerald I own; With fig and olive, almond, peach, Cherry and plum-tree overgrown; Glad-watered by a crystal spring That carols through the silver night, And populous with birds who sing Gay madrigals for my delight. Some merchants fain would buy my land To build a stately […]...
31. Oh! That We Two Were Maying 1 Oh! that we two were Maying 2 Down the stream of the soft spring breeze; 3 Like children with violets playing 4 In the shade of the whispering trees. 5 Oh! that we two sat dreaming 6 On the sward of some sheep-trimmed down, 7 Watching the white mist steaming 8 Over river and […]...
32. Happiness A man and a woman lie on a white bed. It is morning. I think Soon they will waken. On the bedside table is a vase Of lilies; sunlight Pools in their throats. I watch him turn to her As though to speak her name But silently, deep in her mouth At the window ledge, […]...
33. The Swan At Edgewater Park Isn’t one of your prissy richpeoples’ swans Wouldn’t be at home on some pristine pond Chooses the whole stinking shoreline, candy wrappers, condoms in its tidal fringe Prefers to curve its muscular, slightly grubby neck into the body of a Great Lake, Swilling whatever it is swans swill, Chardonnay of algae with bouquet of crud, […]...
34. The Twilight Turns The twilight turns from amethyst To deep and deeper blue, The lamp fills with a pale green glow The trees of the avenue. The old piano plays an air, Sedate and slow and gay; She bends upon the yellow keys, Her head inclines this way. Shy thought and grave wide eyes and hands That wander […]...
35. Edith Conant We stand about this place we, the memories; And shade our eyes because we dread to read: “June 17th, 1884, aged 21 years and 3 days.” And all things are changed. And we we, the memories, stand here for ourselves alone, For no eye marks us, or would know why we are here. Your husband […]...
36. DOUBLE VILLANELLE I. O goat-foot God of Arcady! This modern world is grey and old, And what remains to us of thee? No more the shepherd lads in glee Throw apples at thy wattled fold, O goat-foot God of Arcady! Nor through the laurels can one see Thy soft brown limbs, thy beard of gold And what […]...
37. The Bohemian Dreams Because my overcoat’s in pawn, I choose to take my glass Within a little bistro on The rue du Montparnasse; The dusty bins with bottles shine, The counter’s lined with zinc, And there I sit and drink my wine, And think and think and think. I think of hoary old Stamboul, Of Moslem and of […]...
38. The Red Blaze is the Morning The Red Blaze is the Morning The Violet is Noon The Yellow Day is falling And after that is none But Miles of Sparks at Evening Reveal the Width that burned The Territory Argent that Never yet consumed...
39. Epitaph For Our Children Blame us for these who were cradled and rocked in our chaos; Watching our sidelong watching, fearing our fear; Playing their blind-man’s-bluff in our gutted mansions, Their follow-my-leader on a stair that ended in air....
40. Cousin Nancy MISS NANCY ELLICOTT Strode across the hills and broke them, Rode across the hills and broke them- The barren New England hills- Riding to hounds Over the cow-pasture. Miss Nancy Ellicott smoked And danced all the modern dances; And her aunts were not quite sure how they felt about it, But they knew that it […]...