Broadway

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1. Bath A MAN saw the whole world as a grinning skull and Cross-bones. The rose flesh of life shriveled from all Faces. Nothing counts. Everything is a fake. Dust to Dust and ashes to ashes and then an old darkness and a Useless silence. So he saw it all. Then he went to a Mischa Elman […]...
2. Places ROSES and gold For you today, And the flash of flying flags. I will have Ashes, Dust in my hair, Crushes of hoofs. Your name Fills the mouth Of rich man and poor. Women bring Armfuls of flowers And throw on you. I go hungry Down in dreams And loneliness, Across the rain To slashed […]...
3. Broadway Under Grand Central’s tattered vault maybe half a dozen electric stars still lit One saxophone blew, and a sheer black scrim Billowed over some minor constellation Under repair. Then, on Broadway, red wings In a storefront tableau, lustrous, the live macaws Preening, beaks opening and closing Like those animated knives that unfold all night In […]...
4. Dirge Without Music I am not resigned to the shutting away of loving hearts in the hard ground. So it is, and so it will be, for so it has been, time out of mind: Into the darkness they go, the wise and the lovely. Crowned With lilies and with laurel they go; but I am not resigned. […]...
5. Cool Tombs WHEN Abraham Lincoln was shoveled into the tombs, he forgot the copperheads and the assassin… in the dust, in the cool tombs. And Ulysses Grant lost all thought of con men and Wall Street, cash and collateral turned ashes… in the dust, in the cool tombs. Pocahontas’ body, lovely as a poplar, sweet as a […]...
6. The Soldier If I should die, think only this of me: That there’s some corner of a foreign field That is for ever England. There shall be In that rich earth a richer dust concealed; A dust whom England bore, shaped, made aware, Gave once her flowers to love, her ways to roam; A body of England’s, […]...
7. Vitae Summa Brevis Spem Nos Vetat Incohare Longam They are not long, the weeping and the laughter, Love and desire and hate: I think they have no portion in us after We pass the gate. They are not long, the days of wine and roses: Out of a misty dream Our path emerges for a while, then closes Within a dream. [The title […]...
8. On Broadway About me young careless feet Linger along the garish street; Above, a hundred shouting signs Shed down their bright fantastic glow Upon the merry crowd and lines Of moving carriages below. Oh wonderful is Broadway only My heart, my heart is lonely. Desire naked, linked with Passion, Goes trutting by in brazen fashion; From playhouse, […]...
9. A Broadway Pageant 1 OVER the western sea, hither from Niphon come, Courteous, the swart-cheek’d two-sworded envoys, Leaning back in their open barouches, bare-headed, impassive, Ride to-day through Manhattan. Libertad! I do not know whether others behold what I behold, In the procession, along with the nobles of Asia, the errand-bearers, Bringing up the rear, hovering above, around, […]...
10. Another Song Of A Fool This great purple butterfly, In the prison of my hands, Has a learning in his eye Not a poor fool understands. Once he lived a schoolmaster With a stark, denying look; A string of scholars went in fear Of his great birch and his great book. Like the clangour of a bell, Sweet and harsh, […]...
11. Sonnet 145: Those lips that Love's own hand did make Those lips that Love’s own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said “I hate” To me that languished for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to […]...
12. Sonnet CXLV Those lips that Love’s own hand did make Breathed forth the sound that said ‘I hate’ To me that languish’d for her sake; But when she saw my woeful state, Straight in her heart did mercy come, Chiding that tongue that ever sweet Was used in giving gentle doom, And taught it thus anew to […]...
13. Among the Red Guns After waking at dawn one morning when the wind sang Low among dry leaves in an elm AMONG the red guns, In the hearts of soldiers Running free blood In the long, long campaign: Dreams go on. Among the leather saddles, In the heads of soldiers Heavy in the wracks and kills Of all straight […]...
14. Aztec Mask I wanted a man’s face looking into the jaws and throat Of life With something proud on his face, so proud no smash Of the jaws, No gulp of the throat leaves the face in the end With anything else than the old proud look: Even to the finish, dumped in the dust, Lost among […]...
15. Momus Momus is the name men give your face, The brag of its tone, like a long low steamboat whistle Finding a way mid mist on a shoreland, Where gray rocks let the salt water shatter spray Against horizons purple, silent. Yes, Momus, Men have flung your face in bronze To gaze in gargoyle downward on […]...
16. Style Flaubert wanted to write a novel About nothing. It was to have no subject And be sustained upon the style alone, Like the Holy Ghost cruising above The abyss, or like the little animals In Disney cartoons who stand upon a branch That breaks, but do not fall Till they look down. He never wrote […]...
17. There Are Not Many Kingdoms Left I write the lips of the moon upon her shoulders. In a Temple of silvery farawayness I guard her to rest. For her bed I write a stillness over all the swans of the World. With the morning breath of the snow leopard I Cover her against any hurt. Using the pen of rivers and […]...
18. Willard Fluke My wife lost her health, And dwindled until she weighed scarce ninety pounds. Then that woman, whom the men Styled Cleopatra, came along. And we we married ones All broke our vows, myself among the rest. Years passed and one by one Death claimed them all in some hideous form, And I was borne along […]...
19. Brave New World One spoke: “Come, let us gaily go With laughter, love and lust, Since in a century or so We’ll all be boneyard dust. When unborn shadows hold the screen, (Our betters, I’ll allow) ‘Twill be as if we’d never been, A hundred years from now. When we have played life’s lively game Right royally we’ll […]...
20. Grey Hairs These are ashes of treasures: Of hurt and loss. These are ashes in face of which Granite is dross. Dove, naked and brilliant, It has no mate. Solomon’s ashes Over vanity that’s great. Time’s menacing chalkmark, Not to be overthrown. Means God knocks at the door Once the house has burned down! Not choked yet […]...
21. The Old Home Calls Come back to me, little dancing feet that roam the wide world o’er, I long for the lilt of your flying steps in my silent rooms once more; Come back to me, little voices gay with laughter and with song, Come back, little hearts beating high with hopes, I have missed and mourned you long. […]...
22. Natural Magic WE air tired who follow after Phantasy and truth that flies: You with only look and laughter Stain our hearts with richest dyes. When you break upon our study Vanish all our frosty cares; As the diamond deep grows ruddy, Filled with morning unawares. With the stuff that dreams are made of But an empty […]...
23. For A Poet I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth, And laid them away in a box of gold; Where long will cling the lips of the moth, I have wrapped my dreams in a silken cloth; I hide no hate; I am not even wroth Who found the earth’s breath so keen and cold; I […]...
24. Testimony Regarding a Ghost THE ROSES slanted crimson sobs On the night sky hair of the women, And the long light-fingered men Spoke to the dark-haired women, “Nothing lovelier, nothing lovelier.” How could he sit there among us all Guzzling blood into his guts, Goblets, mugs, buckets- Leaning, toppling, laughing With a slobber on his mouth, A smear of […]...
25. Over The Range Little bush maiden, wondering-eyed, Playing alone in the creek-bed dry, In the small green flat on every side Walled in by the Moonbi ranges high; Tell me the tale of your lonely life ‘Mid the great grey forests that know no change. “I never have left my home,” she said, “I have never been over […]...
26. Epitaph Heap not on this mound Roses that she loved so well: Why bewilder her with roses, That she cannot see or smell? She is happy where she lies With the dust upon her eyes....
27. The Argument Of His Book I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by […]...
28. Kisses Sweet, can I sing you the song of your kisses? How soft is this one, how subtle this is, How fluttering swift as a bird’s kiss that is, As a bird that taps at a leafy lattice; How this one clings and how that uncloses From bud to flower in the way of roses; And […]...
29. Crystal not on my lips look for your mouth, Not in front of the gate for the stranger, Not in the eye for the tear. Seven nights higher red makes for red, Seven hearts deeper the hand knocks on the gate, Seven roses later plashes the fountain....
30. Let Me Not Forget If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life Then let me ever feel that I have missed thy sight – let me not forget for a moment, Let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams And in my wakeful hours. As my days pass in the crowded market […]...
31. Bringers COVER me over In dusk and dust and dreams. Cover me over And leave me alone. Cover me over, You tireless, great. Hear me and cover me, Bringers of dusk and dust and dreams....
32. Where I have lost, I softer tread Where I have lost, I softer tread I sow sweet flower from garden bed I pause above that vanished head And mourn. Whom I have lost, I pious guard From accent harsh, or ruthless word Feeling as if their pillow heard, Though stone! When I have lost, you’ll know by this A Bonnet black A […]...
33. Dusty Doors CHILD of the Aztec gods, How long must we listen here, How long before we go? The dust is deep on the lintels. The dust is dark on the doors. If the dreams shake our bones, what can we say or do? Since early morning we waited. Since early, early morning, child. There must be […]...
34. Song To Be Sung by the Father of Infant Female Children My heart leaps up when I behold A rainbow in the sky; Contrariwise, my blood runs cold When little boys go by. For little boys as little boys, No special hate I carry, But now and then they grow to men, And when they do, they marry. No matter how they tarry, Eventually they marry. […]...
35. Poems Done on a Late Night Car I. CHICKENS I am The Great White Way of the city: When you ask what is my desire, I answer: “Girls fresh as country wild flowers, With young faces tired of the cows and barns, Eager in their eyes as the dawn to find my mysteries, Slender supple girls with shapely legs, Lure in the […]...
36. Dynamiter I SAT with a dynamiter at supper in a German saloon Eating steak and onions. And he laughed and told stories of his wife and children And the cause of labor and the working class. It was laughter of an unshakable man knowing life to be A rich and red-blooded thing. Yes, his laugh rang […]...
37. Dreams in the dusk DREAMS in the dusk, Only dreams closing the day And with the day’s close going back To the gray things, the dark things, The far, deep things of dreamland. Dreams, only dreams in the dusk, Only the old remembered pictures Of lost days when the day’s loss Wrote in tears the heart’s loss. Tears and […]...
38. Only Dreams A maiden sat in teh sunset glow Of the shadowy, beautiful Long Ago, That we see through a mist of tears. She sat and dreamed, with lips apart, With thoughtful eyes and a beating heart, Of the mystical future years; And brighter far than the sunset skies Was the vision seen by the maiden’s eyes. […]...
39. The Under-Dogs What have we done, Oh Lord, that we Are evil starred? How have we erred and sinned to be So scourged and scarred? Lash us, Oh Lord, with scorpion whips, We can but run; But harken to our piteous lips: What have we done? How have we sinned to rouse your wrath, To earn your […]...
40. A Casualty That boy I took in the car last night, With the body that awfully sagged away, And the lips blood-crisped, and the eyes flame-bright, And the poor hands folded and cold as clay Oh, I’ve thought and I’ve thought of him all the day. For the weary old doctor says to me: “He’ll only last […]...