The Unpardonable Sin

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1. The Unpardonable Sin This is the sin against the Holy Ghost: – To speak of bloody power as right divine, And call on God to guard each vile chief’s house, And for such chiefs, turn men to wolves and swine:- To go forth killing in White Mercy’s name, Making the trenches stink with spattered brains, Tearing the nerves […]...
2. 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 […]...
3. Floorless Room, The I Wish that my Room had a Floor! I don’t so Much Care for a Door, But this Crawling Around Without Touching the Ground Is Getting to be Quite a Bore!...
4. Authorship You say that father write a lot of books, but what he write I don’t Understand. He was reading to you all the evening, but could you really Make out what he meant? What nice stores, mother, you can tell us! Why can’t father Write like that, I wonder? Did he never hear from his […]...
5. Heritage Now the dead past seems vividly alive, And in this shining moment I can trace, Down through the vista of the vanished years, Your faun-like form, your fond elusive face. And suddenly some secret spring’s released, And unawares a riddle is revealed, And I can read like large, black-lettered print, What seemed before a thing […]...
6. Some time Last night, my darling, as you slept, I thought I heard you sigh, And to your little crib I crept, And watched a space thereby; And then I stooped and kissed your brow, For oh! I love you so You are too young to know it now, But some time you shall know! Some time […]...
7. God's Battleground God dwells in you; in pride and shame, In all you do to blight or bless; In all you are of praise and blame, In beauty or in ugliness. “Divine Creation” – What a fraud! God did not make you. . . You make God. God lives in me, in all I feel Of love […]...
8. The Fury Of Abandonment Someone lives in a cave Eating his toes, I know that much. Someone little lives under a bush Pressing an empty Coca-Cola can against His starving bloated stomac, I know that much. A monkey had his hands cut off For a medical experiment And his claws wept. I know tht much. I know that it […]...
9. With Tears They Buried You Today With tears they buried you to-day, But well I knew no turf could hold Your gladness long beneath the mould, Or cramp your laughter in the clay; I smiled while others wept for you Because I knew. And now you sit with me to-night Here in our old, accustomed place; Tender and mirthful is your […]...
10. Shut Up And Eat Your Toad The disorganization to which I currently belong Has skipped several meetings in a row Which is a pattern I find almost fatally attractive. Down at headquarters there’s a secretary And a janitor who I shall call Suzie And boy can she ever shoot straight. She’ll shoot you straight in the eye if you ask her […]...
11. Let It Be Forgotten Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold. Let it be forgotten forever and ever, Time is a kind friend, he will make us old. If anyone asks, say it was forgotten Long and long ago, As a flower, as a fire, as a hushed […]...
12. The Helmet All the way On the road to Gary He could see Where the sky shone Just out of reach And smell the rich Smell of work As strong as money, But when he got there The night was over. People were going To work and back, The sidewalks were lakes No one walked on, The […]...
13. An Almost Made Up Poem I see you drinking at a fountain with tiny Blue hands, no, your hands are not tiny They are small, and the fountain is in France Where you wrote me that last letter and I answered and never heard from you again. You used to write insane poems about ANGELS AND GOD, all in upper […]...
14. Embrace Noir I go back to the scene where the two men embrace & grapple a handgun at stomach level between them. They jerk around the apartment like that Holding on to each other, their cheeks Almost touching. One is shirtless, the other Wears a suit, the one in the suit came in through a window To […]...
15. After Making Love We Hear Footsteps For I can snore like a bullhorn Or play loud music Or sit up talking with any reasonably sober Irishman And Fergus will only sink deeper Into his dreamless sleep, which goes by all in one flash, But let there be that heavy breathing Or a stifled come-cry anywhere in the house And he will […]...
16. Days of the slow roll It was the days of the slow roll, Times when we dextrously dressed Our hand-rolled cigarettes With a dearth of fine-cut tobacco, Teased in frugal strands from A handsomely battered, Always near empty, 2oz tobacco tin. The thin rolls were patiently Mastered in a slow statement Of intense deliberation In a fold of rice paper […]...
17. Love's Strategems But these maneuverings to avoid The touching of hands, These shifts to keep the eyes employed On objects more or less neutral (As honor, for time being, commands) Will hardly prevent their downfall. Stronger medicines are needed. Already they find None of their strategems have succeeded, Nor would have, no, Not had their eyes been […]...
18. Sonnet XXXV: Some, Misbelieving To Miracle Some, misbelieving and profane in love, When I do speak of miracles by thee, May say, that thou art flattered by me, Who only write my skill in verse to prove. See miracles, ye unbelieving, see A dumb-born Muse made t’express the mind, A cripple hand to write, yet lame by kind, One […]...
19. Lines in Praise of Mr. J. Graham Henderson, Hawick Success to Mr J. Graham Henderson, who is a good man, And to gainsay it there’s few people can, I say so from my own experience, And experience is a great defence. He is a good man, I venture to say, Which I declare to the world without dismay, Because he’s given me a suit […]...
20. PUBLISHERS And then they pretend like owls With marble eyes and wizened stupidity I do not know why they cannot perceive True art But I will write Until sand evaporates And the moon consumes the sun I will write Even for the sake of art For myself and for those who feel Reading could lift them […]...
21. Snail and spiral i take my property with me says the snail Slow-moving (yes) but packed with sublime thought The house upon its back some kind of grail Vulnerable to brute boot – and wisdom bought By barely making it through life’s dull crawl The pace of it denies technology’s demand That speed be safety (that getting there […]...
22. Jealousy When I see you, who were so wise and cool, Gazing with silly sickness on that fool You’ve given your love to, your adoring hands Touch his so intimately that each understands, I know, most hidden things; and when I know Your holiest dreams yield to the stupid bow Of his red lips, and that […]...
23. Sonnet 87: Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing Farewell! Thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate, The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting, And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in […]...
24. Sonnets ix FAREWELL! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in […]...
25. Young Fellow My Lad “Where are you going, Young Fellow My Lad, On this glittering morn of May?” “I’m going to join the Colours, Dad; They’re looking for men, they say.” “But you’re only a boy, Young Fellow My Lad; You aren’t obliged to go.” “I’m seventeen and a quarter, Dad, And ever so strong, you know.” * * […]...
26. By the Spring, at Sunset Sometimes we remember kisses, Remember the dear heart-leap when they came: Not always, but sometimes we remember The kindness, the dumbness, the good flame Of laughter and farewell. Beside the road Afar from those who said “Good-by” I write, Far from my city task, my lawful load. Sun in my face, wind beside my shoulder, […]...
27. Over The Alley Here in my office I sit and write Hour on hour, and day on day, With no one to speak to from morn till night, Though I have a neighbour just over the way. Across the alley that yawns between A maiden sits sewing the whole day long; A face more lovely is seldom seen […]...
28. Sonnet LXXXVII Farewell! thou art too dear for my possessing, And like enough thou know’st thy estimate: The charter of thy worth gives thee releasing; My bonds in thee are all determinate. For how do I hold thee but by thy granting? And for that riches where is my deserving? The cause of this fair gift in […]...
29. The Wicked Postman Why do you sit there on the floor so quiet and silent, tell me, Mother dear? The rain is coming in through the open window, making you all Wet, and you don’t mind it. Do you hear the gong striking four? It is time for my brother To come home from school. What has happened […]...
30. January 31 (The sky is crumbling…) The sky is crumbling into millions of paper dots The wind blows in my face So I duck into my favorite barber shop And listen to Vivaldi and look in the mirror Reflecting the shopfront windows, Broadway And 104th, and watch the dots blown by the wind Blow into the faces of the walkers outside […]...
31. For The Year Of The Insane a prayer O Mary, fragile mother, Hear me, hear me now Although I do not know your words. The black rosary with its silver Christ Lies unblessed in my hand For I am the unbeliever. Each bead is round and hard between my fingers, A small black angel. O Mary, permit me this grace, This […]...
32. My young son asks me My young son asks me: Must I learn mathematics? What is the use, I feel like saying. That two pieces Of bread are more than one’s about all you’ll end up with. My young son asks me: Must I learn French? What is the use, I feel like saying. This State’s collapsing. And if you […]...
33. Why I Wake Early Hello, sun in my face. Hello, you who made the morning And spread it over the fields And into the faces of the tulips And the nodding morning glories, And into the windows of, even, the Miserable and the crotchety – Best preacher that ever was, Dear star, that just happens To be where you […]...
34. Dream Song 111: I miss him. When I get back to camp I miss him. When I get back to camp I’ll dig him up. Well, he can prop & watch, Can’t he, pink or blue, And I will talk to him. I miss him. Slams, Grand or any, aren’t for the tundra much. One face-card will do. It’s marvellous how four sit down—beyond My thought how […]...
35. Caught in a Net Upon her breast her hands and hair Were tangled all together. The moon of June forbade me not – The golden night time weather In balmy sighs commanded me To kiss them like a feather. Her looming hair, her burning hands, Were tangled black and white. My face I buried there. I pray – So […]...
36. The Ambush He watched the old movie unfold, The head-covered man bashing his van into a building, Nodding his head: ‘Yes another one, they are terrorists,’ The calm way he uttered those words The look in his young eyes, Made me ache. For they had won, Hands down they had won, Ultimately they had won, Their hollow […]...
37. Room 4: The Painter Chap He gives me such a bold and curious look, That young American across the way, As if he’d like to put me in a book (Fancies himself a poet, so they say.) Ah well! He’ll make no “document” of me. I lock my door. Ha! ha! Now none shall see. . . . Pictures, just […]...
38. The Song Of The Wage-Slave When the long, long day is over, and the Big Boss gives me my pay, I hope that it won’t be hell-fire, as some of the parsons say. And I hope that it won’t be heaven, with some of the parsons I’ve met All I want is just quiet, just to rest and forget. Look […]...
39. The Flour Bin By Lawson’s Hill, near Mudgee, On old Eurunderee – The place they called “New Pipeclay”, Where the diggers used to be – On a dreary old selection, Where times were dry and thin, In a slab and shingle kitchen There stood a flour bin. ‘Twas “ploorer” with the cattle, ‘Twas rust and smut in wheat, […]...
40. The Jackfruit I am like a jackfruit on the tree. To taste you must plug me quick, while fresh: The skin rough, the pulp thick, yes, But oh, I warn you against touching The rich juice will gush and stain your hands...