#IrishWriters
TIME-STONE Hallo, Metropolitan’ Ubiquitous windows staring all way… Red eye notching the darkness. No use to ogle that slip of a moon…
The earth is motionless And poised in space ... A great bird resting in its flight Between the alleys of the stars. It is the wind’s hour off ...
Blow through me wind As you blow through apple blossoms… Scatter me in shining petals over… Joyously I reunite’¦ sway and ga… Sedately I walk by the dancing fe…
Not yet hast Thou sounded Thy clangorous music, Whose strings are under the mounta… Not yet hast Thou spoken The blooded, implacable Word...
You can see the sandhills from our… Butterflies live in the sandhills and lizards and centipedes.
Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors . . .
Aren’t there bigger things to talk… Than a window in Greenwich Villag… And hyacinths sprouting Like little puce poems out of a si… Some cosmic hearsay—
Wind, just arisen - (Off what cool mattress of marsh-m… In tented boughs leaf-drawn before… Or niche of cliff under the eagles… You of living things,
I love those spirits That men stand off and point at, Or shudder and hood up their souls… Those ruined ones, Where Liberty has lodged an hour
I am of the wind... A wisp of the battering wind... I trail my fingers along the Alps And an avalanche falls in my wake.… I feel in my quivering length
When you tell mama you are going to do something grea… she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through,
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,
Warped... gland-dry... With spine askew And body shrunken into half its sp… Well-used as some cracked paving-s… Bearing on his grimed and pitted f…
Oh, God did cunningly, there at B… Not mere tongues dividing, but sou… So that never again should men be… To fashion one infinite, towering…