The words I spilled into the gutterMingled and cavorted through drain ditchesAnd switchback bloated rain puddles. They bled through...
Poetry
In an old dull yard near Camden Town, Which echoes with the rattle of cars and ‘busses And freight-trains,...
Half a mile from the Heart, We stopped to stretch And kick the tires of our egg salad sandwich. “But this is ghost land, territory of Night,” our driver warned. “No place for childlike wonder.” So we rolled further into the west Toward pink spires and totem stones Where willowy mists plumed up from canyons And coagulated into coarse light....
Grackles, trees— I been thinkin’ ’bout ’em all: I been thinkin’ they’re all right: Nothin’ much—Gosh, nothin’ much against...
I staid the night for shelter at a farm Behind the mountain, with a mother and son, Two old-believers....
In Arcady there lies a crystal spring Ring’d all about with green melodious reeds Swaying seal’d music up and...
Native moments—when you come upon me—ah you are here now, Give me now libidinous joys only, Give me the...
I. Ill on a journey; my dreams wander over a withered moor. II. The sea darkens; the voices of...