You can’t put in the ground swell… from the Christiansted, St.Croix,… behind the paratrooper’s voice: ‘T… after Vietnam. I made thirty jump… Bells punish the dead street and p…
The fist clenched round my heart loosens a little, and I gasp brightness; but it tightens again. When have I ever not loved the pain of love? But this has mov…
After that hot gospeller has level… I wrote the tale by tallow of a ci… Under a candle’s eye, that smoked… Wanted to tell, in more than wax,… All day I walked abroad among the…
Schizophrenic, wrenched by two sty… one a hack’s hired prose, I earn me exile. I trudge this sickle, mo… tan, burn to slough off
Those five or six young guys lunched on the stoop that oven-hot summer night whistled me over. Nice and friendly. So, I stop.
When sunset, a brass gong, vibrate through Couva, is then I see my soul, swiftly uns… like a white cattle bird growing m… over the ocean of the evening cane…
Man, I suck me tooth when I hear How dem croptime fiddlers lie, And de wailing, kiss-me-arse flute… That bring water to me eye! Oh, when I t’ink how from young
This coral’s hape ecohes the hand It hollowed. Its Immediate absence is heavy. As pu… As your breast in my cupped palm. Sea-cold, its nipple rasps like sa…
The growing idleness of summer gra… With its frail kites of furious bu… Requests the lemonade of simple pr… In scansion gentler than my hammoc… And rituals no more upsetting than…
I came up out of the subway and th… people standing on the steps as if… something I didn’t. This was in t… and nuclear fallout. I looked and… was empty, I mean utterly, and I…
The time will come when, with elation you will greet yourself arriving at your own door, in your own mirr… and each will smile at the other’s…
though our longest sun sets at rig… makes but winter arches, it cannot be long before we lie do… have our light in ashes. . . Browne, Urn Burial
A wind is ruffling the tawny pelt Of Africa, Kikuyu, quick as flies… Batten upon the bloodstreams of th… Corpses are scattered through a pa… Only the worm, colonel of carrion,…
[for Alix Walcott] Between the vision of the Tourist… Paradise lies the desert where Is… force a rose from the sand. The th… cores the dawn clouds with concent…
As for that other thing which comes when the eyelid is gla… and the wax gleam from the unwrinkled forehead asks no more questions