#Irish #Women
In a little Hungarian cafe Men and women are drinking Yellow wine in tall goblets. Through the milky haze of the smok… The fiddler, under-sized, blond,
Come forth, you workers! Let the fires go cold’ Let the iron spill out, out of the… Let the iron run wild Like a red bramble on the floors’…
I have known only my own shallows… Safe, plumbed places, Where I was wont to preen myself. But for the abyss I wanted a plank beneath
The ore in the crucible is pungent… It is dusky red, like the ebb of p… And purple, like the blood of elde… Surely it is a strong wine - juice… I am drunk of its fumes.
Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors’¦ beheld in your luminous spirit their own r...
Mama’s face is smooth and pale as tea-rose lea… That ivory oval of aunt Gem you sucked the miniature off had black black hair like mama.
Undulant rustlings, Of oncoming silk, Rhythmic, incessant, Like the motion of leaves… Fragments of color
Not your martyrs anointed of heave… The ages are red where they trod - But the Hunted - the world’s bitt… Who smote at your imbecile God - A being to pander and fawn to,
Not yet hast Thou sounded Thy clangorous music, Whose strings are under the mounta… Not yet hast Thou spoken The blooded, implacable Word...
I have a dream to fill the golden sheath of a remembered day.... (Air heavy and massed and blue
A late snow beats With cold white fists upon the ten… Hurriedly drawing blinds and shutt… Like tall old slatterns Pulling aprons about their heads.
Because you are four years old the candle is all dressed up in a… And stars nod to you through the h… (except the big stiff planets too fat to move about much,)
Bountiful Givers, I look along the years And see the flowers you threw’¦ Anemones And sprigs of gray
Snow wraiths circle us Like washers of the dead, Flapping their white wet cloths Impatiently About the grizzled head,
We are old, Old as song. Before Rome was Or Cyrene. Mad nights knew us