Short Poems

Paperhanger, paperhanger — the ladder might have been longer. But the paperhanger who eats his bread on the ladder, with hands of paint and soot, hears not what is said below. Like a child in a cradle, with uplifted eyes, he rocks himself on the scaffolding — and doubtlessly people will pick him up after the misfortune shall have befallen him.

Before the lofty mountains in the west the day begins to bend; silent shadows fall toward the east across his way.
On the lofty mountains in the west Someone outstretches a far-reaching hand, conveys the sun, the day somewhere to the other side.
Quiet, my soul; be quiet — there will come an evening and you also will be led away somewhere by that hand.

The trees lead into the distance and bluish is the roadside pathway .
And bluish twinkles a village dipped in mists, like a fairy tale .
And irresolute, aimlessly I ramble off along the path .
The trees lead — so I shall go, and shall forget all that has been .
And shall not think of what's to come — but only follow the blue gleam .

Four boys in white blouses are sitting on a rock in the park with their backs toward the coming night .
Four boys, white as swans, are gazing at the sky, where a thin rosy cloud spreads like a wing .
Four boys — white swans, ride dreaming in the sky on the back of a giant rosy butterfly .

The town is burning. Thick, black smoke, fat devouring flames and drunken cries and chants writhe upward to the sky. Terrified running of white men. And newly freed negroes with bright rags on their black bodies, with white teeth of beasts and steaming nostrils pour like waves into the streets, screaming and singing and bearing devastation with their broad, animal feet .
A black forest of heads, bent by a storm .
The forest grows and the storm grows. And his knees bend, whose fate it was to be the liberator .

With the evening glow into the night, out of the night with the morning light. With the evening glow rock yourself, heart, and sway; with the morning light ring forth your joy.
Like evening glow vanish somewhere; find yourself again like the morning light. In the evening glow become your own dream, in the morning light become your own bliss.

Brownstone the house, the balconies blue; there lives a lady, a lovely little lady. Lilac is her gown, love her words and joy: blue ringlets on crystal mirrors. O lady mine, lady of time a-gone .
Lilac silk the gown and vine brocade the trail; blue ribbons in the curly flaxen braids; white fingers among the coral strings — white little daggers in her heart for me. And words: blue ringlets on crystal mirrors. O lady mine, lady of time a-gone .

In my feverish fingers the world writhes. I am a net of wire, a pulse of thousand pulses, a seismograph of world-quakes. In the East there rises in me the sun, in the West there sets in me the sun, Morocco storms fy fortresses, a hurricane devastates my harvest-fields, in Broome Street I perish in flames, the black Hudson drags me to its bottom, I kindle the world in the fire of decline; with naked heaving breasts, with hungry eyes, raging fists upon sated worlds I advance — — — In my feverish fingers the world convulses, and I within it — — a sullen sadness .

Over the distant sea quietly glides the light of the world. Quiet. — — Only a great blue silence reigns over the world. Over the layers, over the treasures of frozen quiet the hand of Creation weeps.
Upon the entire distance and breadth of the silent Earth lies the white body of Woman. Beyond all silent spaces foams the white body of Woman. Like heralds of misfortune her woes overrun all the highways of the world.
Quiet. — — Only a great heavy silence sates itself on the quiet earth. Over the layers, over the treasures of frozen quiet the hand of Creation rests.

This Lock of Queen Elisabeth's owne Hair was presented to Sir Philip Sidney by Her Majesty's owne faire hands, on which He made these verses, and gaue them to them to the Queen, on his bended knee. Anno Domini 1573.
Her inward worth all outward Show transcends,
Envy her Merits with Regret Commends,
Like Sparkling Gems her Vertues draw the Sight,
And in her Conduct She is alwaies Bright;
When She imparts her thoughts her words have force,
And Sence and Wisdom flow in sweet Discourse.