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26 pages, Chapbook
First published January 1, 1963
TEMPEST
's nightly subterfuge
someone is sitting restlessly
their hands stir dead of night
out) night's a-fledge
and gathering furious birds
in a commotion the leaves damp
when 'ts HARSHLY
that falls and WHO and WHO'S
about New England
windows!
ANXIETIES
Throw no more of Gothic, you lit night-leaves!
It suddens the hark of lone or lamp there:
No reaching for toward disheartening fat of all
Dismembered things under moon, going where?
Now cease hysteria around the awnings for God's sake
Like too late for some confounding fate
to be declared. Wherever I might be in all today,
leaves, leave my resigned a dare!
Anguish no more in the gust'd as though I
submit to a nosferatu'd lure.
That has long of ago been driven pure.
Leaves what I haven't done I have not!
Never mind, insinuating by furious racket.
The rose, the tear and the paycheck,
and then summarily
a strait jacket?
OF PHOTOGRAPH OF FLOOD
there rose hysteria'd thick
bluster'd from dusk
its furious weather:
like an apparition
too late come away
met the day, drear'd
to a baffled decay
as it shrank darkly
stress up of sea
collected twists all
summoned embroils
of thrall !
long lies a crash
a pity of towers
is by
and the wept
streams in
waste
In a number of houses that faint light
(that most dismal kind of light)
went out by day and someone ill,
I thought, had failed at night
and the insidious, spectral
would wear away with some
one's call
ELEGY TO HURT BIRD THAT DIED
[Buried in a Matchbox]
I suppose you suppose that yon of little burial
Is non of? Rather it is of universal o'er
Unvast because it unvast looks?
Well, how wrong, sir. How it propounds
Means utter, confounds, evers,
Wee-rosed as it is, alas,
I suppose you suppose, as some,
It was one of the lone
Who did thus? Ah yes,
As if one's boned
Skeletal'd in uneager sands
On shores undroned.
But we are other of
"Little Birds," each undone
Laid in his "matchbox"
At last, at last no one.
Why if living bird dies
Should I not solemn him?
Bird you shall be wept
For too. I do. From dogs,
Children, the cat, we made
Hurried away. Fragiled
In hand - - I know then - -
Too frail a bloom.
TRAINYARD BY NIGHT
A THUNDER
then huge bold blasts bluff
hiss, insists, upon hissing insists
on insisting on hissing hiss
hiss s ss ss sss ss ssss s
ss ssss sss
when whoosh!
the sharp scrap making a fourth lap
with a lot of rattletrap
and slap rap
I listen in time to hear coming on
the great Limited
it rolls scrolls fold in fold
like the traditionally old
his meanwhile hiss
insists upon hissing insists
on insisting on hissing hiss
hiss s ss ss sss s
sss s s
s
X
'og tonight of F
terrible 'og, a lamp
was F and 'og its drear
um um came too
For hours F stood
'og made no sound
nor moved (some slow
could move if 'og
permitted Even
so, slow would
come upon F
until 'og turned to F
and thus
Fog
NIGHT AND A DISTANT CHURCH
Forward abrupt up
then mmm mm
wind mmm m
mmm m
upon
the mm mm
wind mmm m
mmm
into the mm wind
rain now and again
the mm wind
ells
b
ell s
b