A final journeying

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1. Final Soliloquy Of The Interior Paramour Light the first light of evening, as in a room In which we rest and, for small reason, think The world imagined is the ultimate good. This is, therefore, the intensest rendezvous. It is in that thought that we collect ourselves, Out of all the indifferences, into one thing: Within a single thing, a single […]...
2. Her final Summer was it Her final Summer was it And yet We guessed it not If tenderer industriousness Pervaded Her, We thought A further force of life Developed from within When Death lit all the shortness up It made the hurry plain We wondered at our blindness When nothing was to see But Her Carrara Guide post At Our […]...
3. The Waking I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. I feel my fate in what I cannot fear. I learn by going where I have to go. We think by feeling. What is there to know? I hear my being dance from ear to ear. I wake to sleep, and take my waking slow. Of […]...
4. Bereaved of all, I went abroad Bereaved of all, I went abroad No less bereaved was I Upon a New Peninsula The Grave preceded me Obtained my Lodgings, ere myself And when I sought my Bed The Grave it was reposed upon The Pillow for my Head I waked to find it first awake I rose It followed me I tried […]...
5. Follow Your Heart Although it’s been said many Times before It’s a powerful message, so I’ll Say it once more… Follow your heart, go wherever It may lead, Follow your heart and you’re Sure to succeed! For when you follow your heart And do what you love, God gives you guidance and help From above… And things start […]...
6. The Final Tax Said Statesman A to Statesman Z: “What can we tax that is not paying? We’re taxing every blessed thing- Here’s what our people are defraying: “Tariff tax, income tax, Tax on retail sales, Club tax, school tax, Tax on beers and ales, “City tax, county tax, Tax on obligations, War tax. wine tax, Tax on […]...
7. The Final Poem A forge burns in my heart. I am redder than dawn, Deeper than seaweed, More distant than gulls, More hollow than wells. But I only give birth To seeds and to shells. My tongue becomes tangled in words: I no longer speak white, Nor utter black, Nor whisper gray of a wind-worn cliff, Barely do […]...
8. I Wake And Feel The Fell Of Dark, Not Day I wake and feel the fell of dark, not day. What hours, O what black hours we have spent This night! what sights you, heart, saw; ways you went! And more must, in yet longer light’s delay. With witness I speak this. But where I say Hours I mean years, mean life. And my lament […]...
9. To Henrietta Lyn We’re going to miss you little girl, you leave an aching space Way out of all proportion to your size. Tomorrow we must face the day Without your lavish greeting – without your urgent bark to wake us up And say, “Let me out of here, the sun is up, I want to play.” We’re […]...
10. The End of the Day The night darkens fast & the shadows darken, Clouds & the rain gather about mine house, Only the wood-dove moans, hearken, O hearken! The moan of the wood-dove in the rain-wet boughs. Loneliness & the night! The night is lonely Star-covered the night takes to a tender breast Wrapping them in her veil these dark […]...
11. Steve's tears My beloved called to me to come and see Steve’s Tears, he was crying on TV; Steve Irwin, The Crocodile Man, And they weren’t crocodile tears. Harriet had died, Steve could not contain his tears and freely cried, Which shouldn’t surprise, he wears his heart openly, But Harriet’s demise was as cruel a testimony to […]...
12. Iambicum Trimetrum Unhappy verse, the witness of my unhappy state, Make thy self flutt’ring wings of thy fast flying Thought, and fly forth unto my love, wheresoever she be: Whether lying restless in heavy bed, or else Sitting so cheerless at the cheerful board, or else Playing alone careless on her heavenly virginals. If in bed, tell […]...
13. The First Night Of Fall And Falling Rain The common rain had come again Slanting and colorless, pale and anonymous, Fainting falling in the first evening Of the first perception of the actual fall, The long and late light had slowly gathered up A sooty wood of clouded sky, dim and distant more and more Until, at dusk, the very sense of selfhood […]...
14. Wisteria The first purple wisteria I recall from boyhood hung On a wire outside the windows Of the breakfast room next door At the home of Steve Pisaris. I loved his tall, skinny daughter, Or so I thought, and I would wait Beside the back door, prostrate, Begging to be taken in. Perhaps It was only […]...
15. Metonymy as an Approach to a Real World Whether what we sense of this world Is the what of this world only, or the what Of which of several possible worlds which what? something of what we sense May be true, may be the world, what it is, what we sense. For the rest, a truce is possible, the tolerance Of travelers, eating […]...
16. I stood musing in a black world I stood musing in a black world, Not knowing where to direct my feet. And I saw the quick stream of men Pouring ceaselessly, Filled with eager faces, A torrent of desire. I called to them, “Where do you go? What do you see?” A thousand voices called to me. A thousand fingers pointed. “Look! […]...
17. We, The Living We, the living, buried deep in selfish grief Strive to comprehend the passing of your hour, Minds are numbed, aghast and grasping For some sense of revelation, Seeking analgesic succour in our weeping, Searching for respite from clamoured Conscience shattered in the shriek of desolation; Each bereaved is silenced, trance-like, Choking cries that chorus, welling […]...
18. Sonnet VIII Oft as by chance, a little while apart The pall of empty, loveless hours withdrawn, Sweet Beauty, opening on the impoverished heart, Beams like the jewel on the breast of dawn: Not though high heaven should rend would deeper awe Fill me than penetrates my spirit thus, Nor all those signs the Patmian prophet saw […]...
19. Benlomond Hadst thou a genius on thy peak, What tales, white-headed Ben, Could’st thou of ancient ages speak, That mock th’ historian’s pen! Thy long duration makes our livea Seem but so many hours; And likens, to the bees’ frail hives, Our most stupendous towers. Temples and towers thou seest begun, New creeds, new conquerers sway; […]...
20. The Happiest Day, The Happiest Hour The happiest day – the happiest hour My sear’d and blighted heart hath known, The highest hope of pride and power, I feel hath flown. Of power! said I? yes! such I ween; But they have vanish’d long, alas! The visions of my youth have been- But let them pass. And, pride, what have I […]...
21. Imitation A dark unfathomed tide Of interminable pride – A mystery, and a dream, Should my early life seem; I say that dream was fraught With a wild and waking thought Of beings that have been, Which my spirit hath not seen, Had I let them pass me by, With a dreaming eye! Let none of […]...
22. FOR EVER THE happiness that man, whilst prison’d here, Is wont with heavenly rapture to compare, The harmony of Truth, from wavering clear, Of Friendship that is free from doubting care, The light which in stray thoughts alone can cheer The wise, the bard alone in visions fair, In my best hours I found in her all […]...
23. Dead thoughts of corpses The symbols that we use are T shirts of the dead Thoughts of corpses without heads, a rictus Without sound – open-mouthed, empty, unbound. And if you ever write those clichés which incite My approbation, fuck you, I am not amused. And if I ever do, then fuck me too. I battle with the icons […]...
24. 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 […]...
25. Danger With what a childish and short-sighted sense Fear seeks for safety; recons up the days Of danger and escape, the hours and ways Of death; it breathless flies the pestilence; It walls itself in towers of defence; By land, by sea, against the storm it lays Down barriers; then, comforted, it says: “This spot, this […]...
26. To Milton Milton! I think thy spirit hath passed away From these white cliffs and high-embattled towers; This gorgeous fiery-coloured world of ours Seems fallen into ashes dull and grey, And the age changed unto a mimic play Wherein we waste our else too-crowded hours: For all our pomp and pageantry and powers We are but fit […]...
27. Do You Hear The Angel Speaking? Do you hear the angel speaking? Do you hear her heavenly voice? Do you hear the song she’s singing? Will you help her to rejoice? Do you hear her when you’re weary And find it hard to cope? Do you hear her inspiration and Her messages of hope? Do you hear her voice of wisdom… […]...
28. The Death Of Richard Wagner Mourning on earth, as when dark hours descend, Wide-winged with plagues, from heaven; when hope and mirth Wane, and no lips rebuke or reprehend Mourning on earth. The soul wherein her songs of death and birth, Darkness and light, were wont to sound and blend, Now silent, leaves the whole world less in worth. Winds […]...
29. The house where I was born (10) And then life; and once again A house where I was born. Around us The granary above what once had been a church, The gentle play of shadow from the dawn clouds, And in us that smell of the dry straw That had seemed to be waiting for us From the moment the last sack, […]...
30. A Dream In visions of the dark night I have dreamed of joy departed- But a waking dream of life and light Hath left me broken-hearted. Ah! what is not a dream by day To him whose eyes are cast On things around him with a ray Turned back upon the past? That holy dream – that […]...
31. St. Agnes' Eve Deep on the convent-roof the snows Are sparkling to the moon: My breath to heaven like vapour goes; May my soul follow soon! The shadows of the convent-towers Slant down the snowy sward, Still creeping with the creeping hours That lead me to my Lord: Make Thou my spirit pure and clear As are the […]...
32. Hymn 105 Heaven invisible and holy. 1 Cor. 2:9,10; Rev. 21:27. Nor eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, Nor sense nor reason known, What joys the Father hath prepared For those that love the Son. But the good Spirit of the Lord Reveals a heav’n to come; The beams of glory in his word Allure and […]...
33. Alone I’ve listened: and all the sounds I heard Were music,-wind, and stream, and bird. With youth who sang from hill to hill I’ve listened: my heart is hungry still. I’ve looked: the morning world was green; Bright roofs and towers of town I’ve seen; And stars, wheeling through wingless night. I’ve looked: and my soul […]...
34. When Helen Lived We have cried in our despair That men desert, For some trivial affair Or noisy, insolent sport, Beauty that we have won From bitterest hours; Yet we, had we walked within Those topless towers Where Helen waked with her boy, Had given but as the rest Of the men and women of Troy, A word […]...
35. Morning You know how it is waking From a dream certain you can fly And that someone, long gone, returned And you are filled with longing, For a brief moment, to drive off The road and feel nothing Or to see the loved one and feel Everything. Perhaps one morning, Taking brush to hair you’ll wonder […]...
36. Coquette et Froide What is thy thought of me? What is thy feeling? Lov’st thou the veil of sense, Or its revealing? Leav’st thou the maiden rose Drooping and blushing, Or rend’st its bosom with Kissing and crushing? I would be beautiful That thou should’st woo me, Gentle, delightsome, but To draw thee to me. Yet should thy […]...
37. Modern Love XXXIX: She Yields She yields: my Lady in her noblest mood Has yielded: she, my golden-crownèd rose! The bride of every sense! more sweet than those Who breathe the violet breath of maidenhood. O visage of still music in the sky Soft moon! I feel thy song, my fairest friend! True harmony within can apprehend Dumb harmony without. […]...
38. You Who Never Arrived You who never arrived In my arms, Beloved, who were lost From the start, I don’t even know what songs Would please you. I have given up trying To recognize you in the surging wave of the next Moment. All the immense Images in me the far-off, deeply-felt landscape, Cities, towers, and bridges, and unsuspected […]...
39. Far Out Beyond the dark cartoons Are darker spaces where Small cloudy nests of stars Seem to float on air. These have no proper names: Men out alone at night Never look up at them For guidance or delight, For such evasive dust Can make so little clear: Much less is known than not, More far than […]...
40. Spirit whose Work is Done SPIRIT whose work is done! spirit of dreadful hours! Ere, departing, fade from my eyes your forests of bayonets; Spirit of gloomiest fears and doubts, (yet onward ever unfaltering pressing;) Spirit of many a solemn day, and many a savage scene! Electric spirit! That with muttering voice, through the war now closed, like a tireless […]...