Whoever comes to shroud me, do not harm
Nor question much
That subtle wreath of hair, which crowns my arm;
The mystery, the sign, you must not touch,
For 'tis my outward soul,
Viceroy to that, which then to heaven being gone,
Will leave this to control
And keep these limbs, her provinces, from dissolution.
When my grave is broke up again
Some second guest to entertain,
(For graves have learn'd that woman head,
To be to more than one a bed)
And he that digs it, spies
A bracelet of bright hair about the bone,
Will he not let'us alone,
And think that there a loving couple lies,
Who thought that this device might be some way
To make their souls, at the last busy day,
I am two fools, I know,
For loving, and for saying so
In whining poetry;
But where's that wiseman, that would not be I,
If she would not deny?
Then as th' earth's inward narrow crooked lanes
Do purge sea water's fretful salt away,
I thought, if I could draw my pains
Through rhyme's vexation, I should them allay.
Grief brought to numbers cannot be so fierce,
The first retainer
he gave to her
was a golden
wedding ring.
The second — late at night
he woke up,
leaned over on an elbow,
and kissed her.
The third and the last —
he died with
and gave up loving
and lived with her.
My lady
fair with
soft
arms, what
can I say to
you — words, words
as if all
worlds were there.
Creo que si... I believe
it will rain
tomorrow... I believe
the son of a bitch
is going into the river...
I believe All men are
created equal — By your
leave a leafy
shelter over the exposed
person — I’ m a
believer creature
of habit but without
out there a void of
pattern older
older the broken
pieces no longer
I dreamt last night
the fright was over, that
the dust came, and then water,
and women and men, together
again, and all was quiet
in the dim moon’ s light.
A paean of such patience —
laughing, laughing at me,
and the days extend over
the earth’ s great cover,
grass, trees, and flower-
ing season, for no clear reason.
As I sd to my
friend, because I am
always talking, — John, I
sd, which was not his
name, the darkness sur-
rounds us, what
can we do against
it, or else, shall we &
why not, buy a goddamn big car,
drive, he sd, for
christ’ s sake, look
out where yr going.
inside my head
Inside my head a common room,
a common place, a common tune,
a common wealth, a common doom
inside my head. I close my eyes.
The horses run. Vast are the skies,
and blue my passing thoughts’ surprise
inside my head. What is this space
here found to be, what is this place
if only me? Inside my head, whose face?
the tools
The galloping collection of boards
are the house which I afforded
one evening to walk into
just as the night came down.
Dark inside, the candle
lit of its own free will, the attic
groaned then, the stairs
led me up into the air.
From outside, it must have seemed
a wonder that it was
the inside he as me saw
in the dark there.
