Our shells clacked on the plates. My tongue was a filling estuary, My palate hung with starlight: As I tasted the salty Pleiades Orion dipped his foot into the wat…
My man is Black Golden Amber Cha… Warm mouths of Brandy Fine Cautious sunlight on a patterned r… Coughing laughter, rocked on a whi… Graceful turns on woolen stilts S…
Let me tell you a little story About Miss Edith Gee; She lived in Clevedon Terrace At number 83. She’d a slight squint in her left…
Once I am sure there’s nothing go… I step inside, letting the door th… Another church: matting, seats, an… And little books; sprawlings of fl… For Sunday, brownish now; some br…
In that country the animals have the faces of people: the ceremonial cats possessing the streets the fox run
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your kn… for a hundred miles through the de… You only have to let the soft anim… love what it loves.
STRANGERS drawn from the ends… I was Lord of the Inca race, and… Under the stars beyond our stars w… Hotly we stormed Valhalla, a mill… Ever 'neath high Valhalla Hall th…
When death comes like the hungry bear in autumn; when death comes and takes all the… to buy me, and snaps the purse shu… when death comes
Look, the trees are turning their own bodies into pillars of light,
In the early curtains of the dusk it flew, a slow galloping this way and that way
On the stiff twig up there Hunches a wet black rook Arranging and rearranging its feat… I do not expect a miracle Or an accident
More and more frequently the edges of me dissolve and I become a wish to assimilate the world, in… you, if possible through the skin like a cool plant’s tricks with ox…
Chaucer, Langland, Douglas, Dunb… brother Anons, how on earth did yo… without anaesthetics or plumbing, in daily peril from witches, warlo… lepers, The Holy Office, foreign…
Scatterghost, it can’t float away. And the rain, everybody’s brother, won’t help. And the wind all these… flying like ten crazy sisters ever…
Every morning the world is created. Under the orange sticks of the sun
Be near me when my light is low, When the blood creeps, and the ner… And tingle; and the heart is sick, And all the wheels of Being slow. Be near me when the sensuous frame
I am the heart of a murdered woman who took the wrong way home who was strangled in a vacant lot… who was shot with care beneath a t… who was mutilated by a crisp knife…
I see you drinking at a fountain w… blue hands, no, your hands are not… they are small, and the fountain i… where you wrote me that last lette… I answered and never heard from yo…
Don’t call this world adorable, or… It’s frisky, and a theater for mor… The eyelash of lightning is neithe… The struck tree burns like a pilla… But the blue rain sinks, straight…
I was a bum in San Francisco but… to go to a symphony concert along… and the music was good but somethi… audience was not and something about the orchestra
Grey haunted eyes, absent-mindedly… From wide, uneven orbits; one brow… Somewhat over the eye Because of a missile fragment stil… Skin-deep, as a foolish record of…
A shilling life will give you all… How Father beat him, how he ran a… What were the struggles of his you… Made him the greatest figure of hi… Of how he fought, fished, hunted,…
Sweet shades why doe you seeke to… To mee who deeme delight in this v… Butt torment, sorrow, and mine own… To taste of joy, or your vaine ple… Show them your pleasures who saw n…
My son, my executioner, I take you in my arms, Quiet and small and just astir And whom my body warms. Sweet death, small son, our instru…
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
Beloveds, now we know that we know… Without notice, our dear love can… In the instant that Michael is go… Though we are many, each of us is… Only when we confess our confusion…
It is December in Wicklow: Alders dripping, birches Inheriting the last light, The ash tree cold to look at. A comet that was lost
the time is always now we have come to the threshold we take off our footwear socks and all bare feet we stood we leave behind the door
Those long uneven lines Standing as patiently As if they were stretched outside The Oval or Villa Park, The crowns of hats, the sun
Though victory’s proof of the skil… Defeat is the proof of your grit; A weakling can smile in his days o… But at trouble’s first sign he wil… So the test of the heart and the t…