Dolor

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1. Sunday Afternoons I sit at home At my desk alone As I used to do On many sunday afternoons When you came back to me, Your arms ached for me, And your arms would close me in Though they smelled of other women. I think of you On Sunday afternoons. Your sweet head would bow, Like a […]...
2. The Song of a Man Who has Come Through Not I, not I, but the wind that blows through me! A fine wind is blowing the new direction of Time. If only I let it bear me, carry me, if only it carry me! If only I am sensitive, subtle, oh, delicate, a winged gift! If only, most lovely of all, I yield myself […]...
3. I hear it was Charged against Me I HEAR it was charged against me that I sought to destroy institutions; But really I am neither for nor against institutions; (What indeed have I in common with them?-Or what with the destruction of them?) Only I will establish in the Mannahatta, and in every city of These States, inland and seaboard, And in […]...
4. Dolor of Autumn The acrid scents of autumn, Reminiscent of slinking beasts, make me fear Everything, tear-trembling stars of autumn And the snore of the night in my ear. For suddenly, flush-fallen, All my life, in a rush Of shedding away, has left me Naked, exposed on the bush. I, on the bush of the globe, Like a […]...
5. Grumpy Grandpa Grand-daughter of the Painted Nails, As if they had been dipped in gore, I’d like to set you lugging pails And make you scrub the kitchen floor. I’m old and crotchety of course, And on this point my patience fails; I’d sue my old girl for divorce If she showed up with painted nails. Grand-daughter […]...
6. He Gives His Beloved Certain Rhymes Fasten your hair with a golden pin, And bind up every wandering tress; I bade my heart build these poor rhymes: It worked at them, day out, day in, Building a sorrowful loveliness Out of the battles of old times. You need but lift a pearl-pale hand, And bind up your long hair and sigh; […]...
7. Silver Filigree The icicles wreathing On trees in festoon Swing, swayed to our breathing: They’re made of the moon. She’s a pale, waxen taper; And these seem to drip Transparent as paper From the flame of her tip. Molten, smoking a little, Into crystal they pass; Falling, freezing, to brittle And delicate glass. Each a sharp-pointed flower, […]...
8. I took one Draught of Life I took one Draught of Life I’ll tell you what I paid Precisely an existence The market price, they said. They weighed me, Dust by Dust They balanced Film with Film, Then handed me my Being’s worth A single Dram of Heaven!...
9. A Scrap of Paper “Will you go to war just for a scrap of paper?” Question Of the German Chancellor to the British Ambassador, August 5, 1914. A mocking question! Britain’s answer came Swift as the light and searching as the flame. “Yes, for a scrap of paper we will fight Till our last breath, and God defend the […]...
10. Silver Nails A MAN was crucified. He came to the city a stranger, Was accused, and nailed to a cross. He lingered hanging. Laughed at the crowd. “The nails are iron,” he Said, “You are cheap. In my country when we crucify We use silver nails. . .” So he went jeering. They Did not understand him […]...
11. Where edges are She is effulgent in the dark halls of town. She is listening but they are hearing. Her skin is blistering and sharp with sparks. She is listening for the crick of grass underfoot. They are hearing her heavy paces. She is straining to feel the hum of the air. They are hearing her voice wailing […]...
12. Frying Pan's Theology Shock-headed blackfellow, Boy (on a pony). Snowflakes are falling Gentle and slow, Youngster says, “Frying Pan What makes it snow?” Frying Pan, confident, Makes the reply “Shake ‘im big flour bag Up in the sky!” “What! when there’s miles of it? Surely that’s brag. Who is there strong enough Shake such a bag?” “What parson […]...
13. What Fields Are As Fragrant As Your Hands? What fields are as fragrant as your hands? You feel how external fragrance stands Upon your stronger resistance. Stars stand in images above. Give me your mouth to soften, love; Ah, your hair is all in idleness. See, I want to surround you with yourself And the faded expectation lift From the edges of your […]...
14. Sonnet 28 – My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! My letters! all dead paper, mute and white! And yet they seem alive and quivering Against my tremulous hands which loose the string And let them drop down on my knee to-night. This said,-he wished to have me in his sight Once, as a friend: this fixed a day in spring To come and touch […]...
15. LE PANNEAU Under the rose-tree’s dancing shade There stands a little ivory girl, Pulling the leaves of pink and pearl With pale green nails of polished jade. The red leaves fall upon the mould, The white leaves flutter, one by one, Down to a blue bowl where the sun, Like a great dragon, writhes in gold. The […]...
16. Song: Eternity of Love Protested How ill doth he deserve a lover’s name, Whose pale weak flame Cannot retain His heat, in spite of absence or disdain; But doth at once, like paper set on fire, Burn and expire; True love can never change his seat, Nor did her ever love, that could retreat. That noble flame which my breast […]...
17. The Ragged Wood O hurry where by water among the trees The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh, When they have but looked upon their images – Would none had ever loved but you and I! Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky, When the sun looked out of his golden hood? […]...
18. Dream Girl YOU will come one day in a waver of love, Tender as dew, impetuous as rain, The tan of the sun will be on your skin, The purr of the breeze in your murmuring speech, You will pose with a hill-flower grace. You will come, with your slim, expressive arms, A poise of the head […]...
19. The Empty Quatrain A flawless cup: how delicate and fine The flowing curve of every jewelled line! Look, turn it up or down, ‘t is perfect still, But holds no drop of life’s heart-warming wine....
20. 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, […]...
21. Song from 'Paracelsus&#039 HEAP cassia, sandal-buds and stripes Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smear’d with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian’s fine […]...
22. The Last Unicorn The last unicorn was never free To chose another ending, The plaintive melody entrained With sweet orchestral strains Describing it was sundered in A soured rendition of Our heaven’s harsh dominion. We were never set to let her free From facile bonds, we fondly loved Mythology too much to let her go And kept her […]...
23. Lisette and Eileen “When he was here alive, Eileen, There was a word you might have said; So never mind what I have been, Or anything,-for you are dead. “And after this when I am there Where he is, you’ll be dying still. Your eyes are dead, and your black hair,- The rest of you be what it […]...
24. Leaning Into The Afternoons Leaning into the afternoons, I cast my sad nets towards your oceanic eyes. There, in the highest blaze my solitude lengthens and flames; Its arms turning like a drowning man’s. I send out red signals across your absent eyes That wave like the sea, or the beach by a lighthouse. You keep only darkness my […]...
25. "Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes&quot Heap cassia, sandal-buds and stripes Of labdanum, and aloe-balls, Smeared with dull nard an Indian wipes From out her hair: such balsam falls Down sea-side mountain pedestals, From tree-tops where tired winds are fain, Spent with the vast and howling main, To treasure half their island-gain. And strew faint sweetness from some old Egyptian’s fine […]...
26. Charon 2004 I, too, have stood paralyzed at the helm Watching onrushing, inevitable disaster. I too have felt sweat (or ecstatic tears) plaster Damp hair to my eyes, as a slug’s dense film Becomes mucous-insulate. Always, thereafter Living in darkness, bright things overwhelm. Originally published by The Neovictorian/Cochlea...
27. Palladiums IN the newspaper office-who are the spooks? Who wears the mythic coat invisible? Who pussyfoots from desk to desk with a speaking forefinger? Who gumshoes amid the copy paper with a whispering thumb? Speak softly-the sacred cows may hear. Speak easy-the sacred cows must be fed....
28. I live with Him I see His face I live with Him I see His face I go no more away For Visitor or Sundown Death’s single privacy The Only One forestalling Mine And that by Right that He Presents a Claim invisible No wedlock granted Me I live with Him I hear His Voice I stand alive Today To witness to the […]...
29. Throwbacks SOMEWHERE you and I remember we came. Stairways from the sea and our heads dripping. Ladders of dust and mud and our hair snarled. Rags of drenching mist and our hands clawing, climbing. You and I that snickered in the crotches and corners, in the gab of our first talking. Red dabs of dawn summer […]...
30. For My Lover, Returning To His Wife She is all there. She was melted carefully down for you And cast up from your childhood, Cast up from your one hundred favorite aggies. She has always been there, my darling. She is, in fact, exquisite. Fireworks in the dull middle of February And as real as a cast-iron pot. Let’s face it, I […]...
31. He Tells Of The Perfect Beauty O cloud-pale eyelids, dream-dimmed eyes, The poets labouring all their days To build a perfect beauty in rhyme Are overthrown by a woman’s gaze And by the unlabouring brood of the skies: And therefore my heart will bow, when dew Is dropping sleep, until God burn time, Before the unlabouring stars and you....
32. 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 […]...
33. The Sun kept setting setting still The Sun kept setting setting still No Hue of Afternoon Upon the Village I perceived From House to House ’twas Noon The Dusk kept dropping dropping still No Dew upon the Grass But only on my Forehead stopped And wandered in my Face My Feet kept drowsing drowsing still My fingers were awake Yet why […]...
34. With Penne, Inke, And Paper To A Distressed Friend Here is paper, pen, and inke, That your heart and seale may sinke Into such markes as may expresse A Soule much blest in heavinesse. May your paper seeme as fayre As yourselfe when you appeare: May the Letters which you write Looke like black eye-lids on white. May your penne such fancies bring As […]...
35. Voltaire Johnson Why did you bruise me with your rough places If you did not want me to tell you about them? And stifle me with your stupidities, If you did not want me to expose them? And nail me with the nails of cruelty, If you did not want me to pluck the nails forth And […]...
36. The Wooden Toy 1 The brightly-painted horse Had a boy’s face, And four small wheels Under his feet, Plus a long string To pull him by this way and that Across the floor, Should you care to. A string in-waiting That slipped away In many wiles From each and every try. 2 Knock and they’ll answer, Mother told […]...
37. Prayer Over a dock railing, I watch the minnows, thousands, swirl Themselves, each a minuscule muscle, but also, without the Way to create current, making of their unison (turning, re- infolding, Entering and exiting their own unison in unison) making of themselves a Visual current, one that cannot freight or sway by Minutest fractions the water’s […]...
38. April Rise If ever I saw blessing in the air I see it now in this still early day Where lemon-green the vaporous morning drips Wet sunlight on the powder of my eye. Blown bubble-film of blue, the sky wraps round Weeds of warm light whose every root and rod Splutters with soapy green, and all the […]...
39. To See Him Again Never, never again? Not on nights filled with quivering stars, Or during dawn’s maiden brightness Or afternoons of sacrifice? Or at the edge of a pale path That encircles the farmlands, Or upon the rim of a trembling fountain, Whitened by a shimmering moon? Or beneath the forest’s Luxuriant, raveled tresses Where, calling his name, […]...
40. In Every Direction As if you actually died in that dream And woke up dead. Shadows of untangling vines Tumble toward the ceiling. A delicate Lizard sits on your shoulder, its eyes Blinking in every direction. And when you lean forward and present your Hands to the basin of water, and glimpse the glass face That is reflected […]...