#IrishWriters
Cool, inaccessible air Is floating in velvety blackness s… But no breath stirs the heat Leaning its ponderous bulk upon th… And most on Hester street…
They pass through the great iron g… Men with eyes gravely discerning, Skilled to appraise the tunnage of… Or split an inch into thousandths… Men tempered by fire as the ore is
How should they appraise you, who… Only time standing well off shall…
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.
Nasal intonations of light and clicking tongues... publicity of windows stoning me with pent-up cries... smells of abattoirs...
Is it you I see go by the window,… at me nor any one, And your shadow swaying from East… Strange that you should be walking… And your legs tied up with a knot…
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
Wind rising in the alleys My spirit lifts in you like a bann… You are full of unspent dreams.... You are laden with beginnings.... There is hope in you... not sweet.…
Will you feast with me, American… But what have I that shall seem g… On my board are bitter apples And honey served on thorns, And in my flagons fluid iron,
Out of the night you burn, Manhat… In a vesture of gold - Span of innumerable arcs, Flaring and multiplying - Gold at the uttermost circles fadi…
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,
Indigo bulb of darkness Punctured by needle lights Through a fissure of brick canyon… And a sliver of moon Spigoting two high windows over th…
A spring wind on the Bowery, Blowing the fluff of night shelter… Off bedraggled garments, And agitating the gutters, that ej… Like lewd growths.
The woman with jewels sits in the… Spraying light like a fountain. Diamonds glitter on her bulbous fi… And on her arms, great as thighs, Diamonds gush from her ear-lobes o…
Small towns Crawling out of their green shirts… Tubercular towns Coughing a little in the dawn... And the church...