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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..22e165f --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #60252 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60252) diff --git a/old/60252-0.txt b/old/60252-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f4ea572..0000000 --- a/old/60252-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,1988 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Advice, by Mawell Bodenheim - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Advice - A Book of Poems - -Author: Mawell Bodenheim - -Release Date: September 7, 2019 [EBook #60252] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVICE *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - - - - -ADVICE - - - - -_NEW POETRY_ - -_FALL, 1920_ - - OCTOBER - _By Robert Bridges_ - - THE FORERUNNER - _By Kahlil Gibran_ - - WORDSWORTH: AN ANTHOLOGY - _By R. Cobden-Sanderson_ - - ADVICE - _By Maxwell Bodenheim_ - - - - - ADVICE - - A BOOK OF POEMS - - By MAXWELL BODENHEIM - - [Illustration] - - NEW YORK - ALFRED·A·KNOPF - 1920 - - - - - COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY - ALFRED A. KNOPF, INC. - - - PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA - - - - - TO - MINNA - WHOSE SMILE IS MY THRONE - - - - -Some of the poems which compose this book have appeared in the _Yale -Review_, the _Smart Set_, the _New Republic_, _Reedy’s Mirror_, the -_Dial_, the _Touchstone_, the _Little Review_, _Poetry: A Magazine of -Verse_, the _Century_, and the _New York Tribune_. They are good, in -spite of their numerous appearances. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - ADVICE TO A STREET-PAVEMENT 13 - - ADVICE TO A BUTTER-CUP 14 - - ADVICE TO A RIVER STEAMBOAT 15 - - FOUNDRY WORKERS 16 - - ADVICE TO A HORNÈD TOAD 18 - - ADVICE TO A FOREST 19 - - RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE I 21 - - ADVICE TO A BLUEBIRD 23 - - TO A FRIEND 24 - - ADVICE TO A WOMAN 25 - - RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE II 26 - - ADVICE TO A BUTTERFLY 28 - - ADVICE TO A POOL 29 - - WHEN FOOLS DISPUTE 30 - - ADVICE TO A GRASS-BLADE 31 - - EAST-SIDE: NEW YORK 32 - - TO A MAN 33 - - THE CHILD MEDITATES 34 - - PIERROT OBJECTS 36 - - COLUMBINE REFLECTS 37 - - RATTLE SNAKE MOUNTAIN DIALOGUE 38 - - DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PAST AND PRESENT POET 41 - - SMILES 43 - - THE COURTESAN CHATS 45 - - THE MOUNTEBANK CRITICIZES 47 - - TO LI T’AI PO 49 - - INSANITY 51 - - TRACK-WORKERS 53 - - FIGURE 55 - - NEGROES 56 - - BROADWAY 58 - - FIFTH AVENUE 60 - - YOUNG WOMAN 62 - - TWO WOMEN ON A STREET 64 - - ADVICE TO MAPLE TREES 66 - - BOARDING HOUSE EPISODE 67 - - VAUDEVILLE MOMENT 70 - - TO ORRICK JOHNS 72 - - YOUNG POET 73 - - STEEL MILLS: SOUTH CHICAGO 74 - - SOUTH STATE STREET: CHICAGO 81 - - - - -ADVICE - - - - -ADVICE TO A STREET-PAVEMENT - - - Lacerated grey has bitten - Into your shapeless humility. - Little episodes of roving - Strew their hieroglyphics on your muteness. - Life has given you heavy stains - Like an ointment growing stale. - Endless feet tap over you - With a maniac insistence. - - O unresisting street-pavement, - Keep your passive insolence - At the dwarfs who scorn you with their feet. - Only one who lies upon his back - Can disregard the stars. - - - - -ADVICE TO A BUTTER-CUP - - - Undistinguished butter-cup - Lost among myriads of others, - To the red ant eyeing you - You are giant stillness. - He pauses on the boulder of a clod, - Baffled by your nearness to the sky. - But to the black loam at your feet - You are the atom of a pent-up dream. - - Undistinguished butter-cup, - Take your little breath of contemplation, - Undisturbed by haughty tricks of space. - - - - -ADVICE TO A RIVER STEAM-BOAT - - - The brass band plays upon your decks, - Like a sturdy harlot aping mirth, - And people in starched shields - Stuff their passions with sweet words, - Life is swishing in the air, - Like a tipsy, unseen bridegroom. - - O humbly grunting river boat, - Take the churning water and the sun - Like one who plays with his own chains - And flings their turmoil to the sky. - Only a voice can leap above high walls. - - - - -FOUNDRY WORKERS - - - Brown faces twisted back - Into an ecstasy of tight resistance; - Eyes that are huge sweat drops - Unheeded by the struggle underneath them-- - Throughout the night you stagger under walls - Where life is squeezed to squealing bitterness. - Beneath your heaving flash of limbs - Your thoughts are smashed to a dejected trance - And you are swept, like empty mites, - Into a glistening frenzy of motion.... - Yet, on a Sunday afternoon - I have seen you straightening your backs with slow smiles; - Walking through the streets - And patiently groping for lost outlines. - Your lips were placid bruises - Almost fearing to relax, - And often out upon some green - Your legs swung themselves into long lost shapes. - - Perhaps upon your death-beds - You will lift your hands, with a wraith of grace, - Showing life a last, weak curve - Of the rhythm he could not kill. - - - - -ADVICE TO A HORNÈD TOAD - - - Hornèd Toad of cloven brown, - Rock souls have dwindled to your eyes - And thrown a splintered end upon your blood. - Night and day have vanished - To you, who squat and watch - Years loosen one sand grain until - Its fall becomes your moment. - Tall things plunge over you, - Slashing their dreams with motion - That holds the death of all they seek, - But you, to whom fierce winds are ripples, - Do not move lest you lose the taste of stillness. - - Hornèd Toad of cloven brown, - Never hop from your grey rock crevice - Mute with interwoven beginnings and ends. - The fluid lies of motion - Leave no remembrance behind. - - - - -ADVICE TO A FOREST - - - O trees, to whom the darkness is a child - Scampering in and out of your long, green beards; - O trees, to whom sunlight is a tattered pilgrim - Counting his dreams within your hermitage - And slipping down the road, in twilight robes; - O trees, whose leaves make an incense of sound - Reeling with the beat of your caught feet, - Do not mingle your tips in startled hatred, - When little men come to fell you. - These men will saw you into strips - Of pointed brooding, blind with paint, - But underneath you men will chase - The grey staccato of their lives - Down a glaring maze of walls - Much harder than your own. - And when, at last, the deep brown gaze - Of stolidly amorous time steals over you, - The little men who bit into your hearts - Will stray off in a patter of rabbits’ feet. - Look down upon these children then - With the aloof and weary tolerance - That all still things possess, - O trees, to whom the darkness was a child - Scampering in and out of your long, green beards. - - - - -RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE I - - - Rounded to a wide eyed clownishness - Crowned by the shifting bravado - Of his long, brown ears, - The rabbit peeked at the sky. - To him, the sky seemed an angelic - Pasture stripped to phantom tranquility, - Where one could nibble thoughtfully. - He longed to leave his mild furtiveness - And speak to a boldness puzzled by his flesh. - With one long circle of despairing grace - He flashed into the air, - Leaping toward his heaven. - But down he crashed against a snake - Who ate him with a meditative interest. - From that day on the snake was filled - With little, meek whispers of concern. - The crushed and peaceful rabbit’s dream - Cast a groping hush upon his blood. - He curled inertly on a rock, - In cryptic, wilted savageness. - In the end, his dry, grey body - Was scattered out upon the rock, - Like a story that could not be told. - - - - -ADVICE TO A BLUE-BIRD - - - Who can make a delicate adventure - Of walking on the ground? - Who can make grass-blades - Arcades for pertly careless straying? - You alone, who skim against these leaves, - Turning all desire into light whips - Moulded by your deep blue wing-tips, - You who shrill your unconcern - Into the sternly antique sky. - You to whom all things - Hold an equal kiss of touch. - - Mincing, wanton blue-bird, - Grimace at the hoofs of passing men. - You alone can lose yourself - Within a sky, and rob it of its blue! - - - - -TO A FRIEND - - - Your head is steel cut into drooping lines - That make a mask satirically meek: - Your face is like a tired devil weak - From drinking many vague and unsought wines. - The sullen skepticism of your eyes - For ever trying to transcend itself, - Is often entered by a wistful elf - Who sits naïvely unperturbed and wise. - - And this same remnant, with its youthful wiles - Held curiously apart from blasphemies, - Twirls starlight shivers out upon your sneers - And changes them to little, startled smiles. - And all your insolence drops to its knees - Before the half-won grandeur of past years. - - - - -ADVICE TO A WOMAN - - - The sloping lines of your shoulders - Speak of Chinese pagodas. - They clash with your western face - Where child and courtesan - Clasp each other in a feigned embrace. - Life, to you, is a liquid mirror. - You stand with delicate, perpetual amazement, - Vainly seeking your reflection. - - - - -RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE II - - - August sauntered down the mountain-side, - Dropping mottled, turbid wraiths of decay. - The air was like an old priest - Disrobing without embarrassment - Before the dark and candid gaze of night. - But these things brought no pause - To the saucily determined squirrel. - His eyes were hungrily upturned - To where the stars hung--icily clustered nuts - Dotting trees of solitude. - He saw the stars just over the horizon, - And they seemed to grow - On trees that he could reach. - So he scampered on, from branch to branch, - Wondering why the fairy nut-trees - Ran away from him. - But, looking down, he spied - A softly wild cheeked mountain pool, - And there a handful of fairy nuts - Bit into the indigo cupping them. - With a squeal of weary happiness - The squirrel plunged into the mountain pool, - And as he drowned within its soundless heart - The fairy nuts were jigging over him, - Like the unheard stirring of a poem. - - - - -ADVICE TO A BUTTERFLY - - - Aimless petal of the wind, - Spinning gently weird circles, - To the flowers underneath - You are a drunken king of motion; - To the plunging winds above - You are momentary indecision. - - Aimless petal of the wind, - Waver carelessly against this June. - The universe, like you, is but - The drowsy arm of stillness - Spinning gently weird circles in his sleep. - - - - -ADVICE TO A POOL - - - Be a liquid threshold for the dawn - And let night touch you with his back. - The earth-bowl prisoning you, and cold night winds - - Are only pause and rhythm - Within an endless fantasy, - But you, like they, can be - A dream from the loins of a dream, - And build a golden stairway of escape. - - O coolly unperturbed pool, - Slap your ripples in laughter at men, - Who splash you with their lordly hands. - Time is but a phantom dagger - That motion lifts to slay itself. - - - - -WHEN FOOLS DISPUTE - - - A trickle of dawn insinuated itself - Through the crevices of black satiation. - The elderly trees coughed, lightly, hurriedly, - In remonstrance against the invasion. - Lean with a virginal poison, - The grass-blades shook, immune to light and time. - A bird lost in a tree - Shrilly flirted with its energy.... - One fool, in the garden, spoke to another. - - - - -ADVICE TO A GRASS-BLADE - - - Thin and dark green symbol - Of an earth forever raising - Myriads of chained wings, - Breezes have a form, to you, - And sounds break into vivid shape. - The proud finality of tiny sight - Cannot lure your pliant blindness. - - Thin and dark green blade, - Be not awed by trees and men - Whose sound is all that gives them life. - You reach the sky because your face - Is not turned toward it. - - - - -EAST-SIDE: NEW YORK - - - An old Jew munches an apple, - With conquering immersion - All the thwarted longings of his life - Urge on his determined teeth. - His face is hard and pear-shaped; - His eyes are muddy capitulations; - But his mouth is incongruous. - Softly, slightly distended, - Like that of a whistling girl, - It is ingenuously haunting - And makes the rest of him a soiled, grey background. - Hopes that lie within their grave - Of submissive sternness, - Have spilled their troubled ghosts upon this mouth, - And a tortured belief - Has dwindled into tenderness upon it.... - He trudges off behind his push-cart - And the Ghetto walks away with him. - - - - -TO A MAN - - - Master of earnest equilibrium, - You are a Christ made delicate - By centuries of baffled meditation. - You curve an old myth to a peaceful sword, - Like some sleep-walker challenging - The dream that gave him shape. - With gentle, antique insistence - You place your child’s hand on the universe - And trace a smile of love within its depths. - And yet, the whirling scarecrow men have made - Of something that eludes their sight, - May have the startling simplicity of your smile. - - Once every thousand years - Stillness fades into a shape - That men may crucify. - - - - -THE CHILD MEDITATES - - - The oak-tree in front of my house - Smells different every morning. - Sometimes it smells fresh and wise - Like my mother’s hair. - Sometimes it stands ashamed - Because it doesn’t own the smell - It borrowed from our flower-garden. - Sometimes it has a windy smell, - As though it had come back from a long walk. - The oak-tree in front of my house - Has different smells, like grown up people. - - My doll hides behind her pink cheeks, - So that you can’t see when she moves, - But it doesn’t matter because - She always moves when no one is looking, - And that is why people think she is still. - People laugh when I say that my doll is alive, - But if she were dead, my fingers - Wouldn’t know that they were touching her. - She lives inside a little house. - And laughs because I cannot find the door. - - The colours in my room - Meet each other and hesitate. - Is that what people call shape? - Nobody seems to think so, - But I believe that lines are dead shapes - Unless they fall against each other - And look surprised, like the colours in my room! - - - - -PIERROT OBJECTS - - - They have made me an airy apology - For the crude insistence of their flesh! - They have made me twist my tongue - Into fickle nonchalance! - With a languid impudence - I have tarried underneath the moon, - While the haggard reticence - Of their lives forgot itself within me! - Well, I am rebelling - At the men who make me - Their grimacing marionnette! - Let them find another dancing-teacher - For their dull, unruffled fears. - I am off to tear my black and white - Into shreds, within a valley - Where nakedness and colours do not need - An artificial night to make them brave! - - - - -COLUMBINE REFLECTS - - - They have moulded my face with a tear and a sneer. - They have sandalled me with caprice, - And the heart they have given me - Is a bag of red tissue-paper. - Their loves are ragged and fat - And seek the consolation - Of a tinkling effigy! - But even an effigy may wink - An eye at its slinking masters! - I can laugh at their frantic, tattered arms - Spinning me into impish posturings, - And jeer at the faces behind me! - After my play I go to sleep, - But they must sit, heavily looking at each other. - - - - -RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN DIALOGUE - - - RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN - Every night the sky grips my shoulder, in pain. - The cows upon my slope - Attack their blades of grass with less decision. - The boulders reaching in to form my ribs, - Are touched by evening dizziness, to dust, - And lose their fierce pretence of hardness. - Three crows in a row - Search for clearer tongues, with steady discords. - - MAN - The nervous dissolution - Which men call beauty stands - Sternly watching itself. - - RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN - Evening, staggering under dead men’s tongues, - Makes light of my loneliness. - He comes like a madman dissolved - Into unbearable quietness. - But, drinking my vigorous muteness, - He melts into that stream of seeking motion - Which men call morning. - - MAN - You teach him to make his recompense - A solitary unfolding - Walking perilously - Between the scowls of life and death. - - RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN - When he goes he is something more than himself. - He holds a lean alertness - That, green as any leaf, - Takes the flutterings of life, unperturbed. - - MAN - Beauty is a proud stare - Challenging all things to remove - Their inattentive clamours: - And some things bow abruptly, - Timidly stroking their untouched skins. - - RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN - And thus evening bows into morning. - - - - -DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PAST AND PRESENT POET - - - PAST POET - I wrote of roses on a woman’s breast, - Glowing as though her blood - Had welled out to a spellbound fierceness; - And the glad, light mixture of her hair. - I wrote of God and angels. - They stole the simple blush of my desire - To make their isolated triumph human. - Knights and kings flooded my song, - Catching with their glittering clash - The unheard boldness in my life. - Gods and nymphs slipped through my voice, - And with the lofty scurrying of their feet - Spurned the smirched angers of my days. - - PRESENT POET - You raised an unhurried, church-like escape. - You lingered in shimmering idleness; - Or lengthened a prayer into a lance; - Or strengthened a thought till it heaved off all of life - And dropped its sightless heaven into your smile. - Life, to us, is a colourless tangle. - Like madly gorgeous weavers - Our eyes reiterate themselves on life. - - PAST POET - My towering simplicity - Loosening an evening of belief - Over the things it dared not view, - Gladly shunned reality - Just as your mad weaver does. - - PRESENT POET - Reality is a formless lure, - And only when we know this - Do we dare to be unreal. - - - - -SMILES - - - Smiles are the words beyond the words - That thoughts abandon helplessly. - Upon this nervous shop-girl’s face, - Where clusters of tiny limpness meet, - A frightened spark leaps high and drops - Into the hot pause of a banished love. - A lustrelessly plump - Girl beside her does not know - That her face for moments glows - Into a helpless solitude. - Upon an old man’s face - Are gleams of meek embarrassment-- - The faded presence of some old debt? - This woman’s face is scorched - By a torch that falls from weary hands - And makes her laugh an unheard lie. - The face of this tamed sprite - Shimmers with an understanding - Of the opaque loss she cannot bear, - And I see that smiles are sometimes - Words beyond the words - That thoughts abandon hopefully. - - - - -THE COURTESAN CHATS - - - Last night I met a passive man - With almost no curve to his face, - And skin relentlessly white. - He made me tell his fortune - With a pack of cards. - “Jack of hearts--your love will be - A scullion overturning trays of food - And standing dubiously in their midst.” - “Queen of diamonds--you will have a wife - Like a thistle dipped in frost, - Helpless in your sheathed hands.” - “Deuce of clubs--a downcast jester - Will pester you with slanting malice - When you seek to play the king.” - “Ace of hearts--your life will stand - Straight in a desperate majesty, - Its lurid robes ever slipping - And one wound endlessly dripping.” - The passive man blew out a candle - On the table and bade me leave, - Not desiring me to see his face. - - - - -THE MOUNTEBANK CRITICIZES - - - I lose all sense of profiles, - Strolling through your greys and blacks and browns! - No man bestows his orange robe - Soberly upon your uncoloured pavements, - Rebuking life for being death. - No woman taunts her sorrows - With a coloured haughtiness. - When you take to colours, you are ashamed, - Like pages nibbling at a pilfered tart. - You go back quickly to your coldness. - And since you have no colours on your clothes, - You walk in straight and measured lilts - As befits the seriously blind. - Your women do not stroll as though - Each step were a timid intrigue - Woven into the climax to which they fare. - Pistols, rhapsodies and heavy odours - Drugged the lustre of my time. - Yet, we had a virtue. - We lavished colours on our backs - And ravished our sorrow with brightness - That often gave a lightness to our feet! - - - - -TO LI T’AI PO - - - They are writing poems to you: - White devils who have not - Smeared the distant yellow of your life - Upon their skins. - Faces where snob and harlequin - Ogle each other in two, cold colours, - White and red; - Faces where middle age - Sits, tearing a last gardenia; - Faces continually cracked - By the brittle larceny of age; - Faces where emotions - Stand disarmed within a calm mirage: - These faces bend over paper - And steal from you a little silver and red - So that their lives may seem to bleed - Under the prick of a flashing need. - The old and tired smile - Of one who spies too much within himself - To spare the effort of a halting frown, - Brushed its sceptre over your face. - You gave kind eyes to your hope, - Desiring it to grope unfearing - Underneath the toppling mountain-tops. - The wine you drank was a lake - In which you splashed and found a vigour; - The wine you drank was void of taste. - Your yellow skin resembled - A balanced docility - Smiling at all things--even at itself-- - Li T’ai Po. - - - - -INSANITY - - - Like a vivid hyperbole, - The sun plunged into April’s freshness, - And struck its sparkling madness - Against the barnlike dejection - Of this dark red insane asylum. - A softly clutching noise - Stumbled from the open windows. - Now and then obliquely reeling shrieks - Rose, as though from men - To whom death had assumed - An inexpressibly kindly face. - A man stood at one window, - His gaunt face trembling underneath - A feverish jauntiness. - A long white feather slanted back - Upon his almost shapeless hat, - Like an innocent evasion. - Hotly incessant, his voice - Methodically flogged the April air: - A voice that held the clashing bones - Of happiness and fear; - A voice in which emotion - Sharply ridiculed itself; - A monstrously vigorous voice - Mockingly tearing at life - With an unanswerable question. - - Hollowed out by his howl, - I turned and saw an asylum guard. - His petulantly flabby face - Rolled into deathlike chips of eyes. - He bore the aimless confidence - Of one contentedly playing with other men’s wings. - He walked away; the man above still shrieked. - I could not separate them. - - - - -TRACK-WORKERS - - - The rails you carry cut into your hands, - Like the sharp lips of an unsought lover. - As you stumble over the ties - Sunlight is clinging, yellow spit - Raining down upon your faces. - You are the living cuspidors of day. - Dirt, its teasing ghost, dust, - And passionless kicks of steel, fill you. - Flowers sprouting near the tracks, - Brush their lightly odoured hands - In vain against your stale jackets of sweat. - Within you, minds and hearts - Are snoring to the curt rhythm of your breath. - You do not see this blustering blackbird - Promenading on a barbed-wire fence. - He eyes you with spritelike hauteur, - Unable to understand - Why your motions endlessly copy each other, - One of you, a meek and burly Pole, - Peers a moment at the strutting blackbird - With a fleeting shade of dull resentment.... - There is always one among you - Who recoils from glimpsing corpses. - - - - -FIGURE - - - Through the turbulent servility - Of a churlish city street - He strides opaquely; nothing in his walk - Resembles an advancing gleam. - His legs are muffled iron - Stubbornly following even thoughts, - His gaily pugnacious head - Seems worried because no dread - Remains for it to slay. - His eyes hold an austerity - That recalls itself while leaping, - And often melts into amusement. - The bent poise of his body - Tells of walls that threw him back, - Only to crumble underneath - The stunned friendliness of his face. - Through the angularly churlish street - He walks, and stoops beneath the captured weight - Of eyes that do not see him. - - - - -NEGROES - - - The loose eyes of an old man - Shone aloof upon his boyish face; - And a sluggish innocence - Hugged his dull brown skin. - He sang a hymn caught from his elders - And his voice resembled - A quavering, feverish laugh - Softened in a swaying cradle. - His life had found a refuge in his voice, - And the rest of him was sickly flesh - Ignorant of life and death. - Like a crushed, excited clown - His mother shuffled out upon the porch. - Slowly her dark brown face resolved - Into the hushed and sulky look - Of one who stands within a dim-walled trap. - Lazily uncertain, - She raised the boy into her arms. - Then her voice swung in the air - Like a quavering, feverish laugh - Softened in a swaying cradle. - - - - -BROADWAY - - - With sardonic futility - The multi-coloured crowd, - Hurried by fervent sensuality, - Flees from something carried on its back. - Endlessly subdued, a sound - Pours up from the crowd, - Like some one ever gasping for breath - To utter releasing words. - Through the artificial valley - Made by gaudy evasions, - The stifled crowd files up and down, - Stabbing thought with rapid noises. - Women strutting dulcetly, - Embroider their unappeased hungers, - And men stumble toward a flitting opiate. - Sometimes a moment breaks apart - And one can hear the knuckles - Of children rapping on towering doors: - Rapping on the highway - Where civilization parades - Its frozen amiabilities! - - - - -FIFTH AVENUE - -(NEW YORK) - - - Seasons bring nothing to this gulch - Save a harshly intimate anecdote - Scrawled, here and there, on paint and stone. - The houses shoulder each other - In a forced and passionless communion. - Their harassed angles rise - Like a violent picture-puzzle - Hiding a story that only ruins could reveal; - Their straight lines, robbed of power, - Meet in dwarfed rebellion. - Sometimes they stand like vastly flattened faces - Suffering ants to crawl - In and out of their gaping mouths. - Sometimes, in menial attitudes - They stand like Gothic platitudes - Slipshodly carved in dark brown stone. - Tarnished solemnities of death - Cast their transfigured hue on this avenue. - The cool and indiscriminate glare - Of sunlight seems to desecrate a tomb, - And the racing people seem - A stream of accidental shadows. - Hard noises strike one’s face and make - It numb with momentary reality, - But the noiseless undertone returns - And they change to unreal jests - Made by death. - - - - -YOUNG WOMAN - - - So we have a face - Cupped by tender insolences, - Half repenting insolences - Teasing their own angers. - Then, a tense exuberance - Brushes them away - And burns a humbly erect - Queen upon her face. - This happens in the space - Between a frown and indecision. - Her face becomes forlornly wild, - And a beggarly impatience - Hovers into furtive shame. - All the supplely intricate flame - Vanishes, and leaves no mark. - Her eyes are violently dark - With a hopeless waiting; - Her lips are isolated tatters-- - All that is left of shattered recreating. - Then, as quickly as she fled, - The humble queen returns. - Staring and unappeased - She eyes her crumpled hands. - - - - -TWO WOMEN ON A STREET - - - This street is callous apathy - In a scale of greys and browns. - Its black roof-line suggests - Flat bodies unable to rise. - Even its screams are listlessness - Having an evil dream. - Its air is swarthy rawness - Troubled with ash cans and cellars. - - An old woman ambles on - With a black bag that seems part of her back, - And a candidly hawk-like face. - She croons a smothered lullaby - That sifts a flitting roundness - Into her sharply parted face. - Then she surrenders her hand - To the welter of a garbage can. - A hugely wilted woman slinks by - With a cracked stare on her face. - Her eyes are beaten discs - Of the lamplight’s ghastly keenness. - She glides away as though the night - Were a lover flogging her; - Glides into the callous apathy - Of this street, like one who cringes - Happily into her lover’s hallway. - - - - -ADVICE TO MAPLE-TREES - - - O little maple-trees, - Slender and unkempt, looking with shaggy askance - Upon the moon-spiked solitude; - O little maple-trees, - Growing a little toward the sky - That touches you to all eyes save your own, - You rattle insistently for wings, - But wings could never tear - The stain of earth from your feet: - The earth that gnaws at you until - Your wing-cries strike the autumn night. - You see, with me, this crescent moon - Juggled on the tawny fingertip - Of a running cloud. - The touch of your desire, or its fall, - Would but be symbols of an equal death. - - - - -BOARDING-HOUSE EPISODE - - - Apples race into appetites: - The unswerving mechanism of the table - Hurries through the last dish of supper. - Then an undulating interlude - From people who have spent one pleasure, - Distractedly juggling its aftermath - And peering at new desires. - One woman gazes at another - While twitching murder shimmers in her eyes - And skims across her face. - Violets in a madman’s scene, - Suspended in the air, - Are the eyes of her neighbour. - And in between them sits the nervous man - With face like pouting gargoyle, - Whose brown eyes shout the things he cannot say: - Explosive evasions; - Fears too tired to shriek; - Renunciations groaning from their dungeons. - He eyes each woman, like a man - Solemnly trying to walk on mysterious ice. - Crisp inanities ripple back and forth - Among these three, like ghostly parrots - Visiting each other’s cages. - She with crazy, violet eyes, - Plays with her fork, as though its clink - Rhymed with secret, chained thoughts; - She with murder in her eyes, - And curtly voluminous body, - Evenly plays her child-rôle. - Cringing on the rim of middle age, - With broken shields piled at her feet, - She has made this man a haunted palace - And she stands before the door - She dare not open, with a dagger - For the woman standing at her side. - - They sit, afterwards, upon the veranda, - Meekly greeting the velvet swagger of evening: - Woman with twisted, violet eyes, - Woman with hidden murder on her lips, - And man like a pouting gargoyle. - Then, like tired children, - Their words grow cool and lazy. - They draw closer to each other - And, with a trembling curiosity, - Look at each other’s hands. - - - - -VAUDEVILLE MOMENT - - - They have carved a battle - Across your hard face: - Transfigured conflict, - Lines like suspended lances. - Your voice must be the uneven - Clink of the last carver’s chisel. - Your soul must be a pious subterfuge - Squinting its admiring eyes - At the lifeless battle lining your face.... - Middle aged vaudeville conductor, - With a hunted leanness on your body, - Sometimes the swing of your baton - Sways with a brooding patience - That violates your ended face. - - Two acrobats appear, - With their automaton bows. - Their unlit motion does not strike - The air into a hugging flame. - They are blue and orange corpses - Whirled in a sacrilegious festival. - They vividly resemble - The chiseled battle that grips - This lean conductor’s face: - Motion without life, - And life that holds no motion! - - - - -TO ORRICK JOHNS - - - The tread-mill roar that ever tramps between - The smirched geometries of this stern place, - Sweeps vainly on your drowsily reckless face - Lost in a swirl of raped loves barely seen. - Sometimes your keenly pagan lips are raised - By thoughts too tense to shape themselves in speech: - Still, wounded thoughts that silently beseech - Your life to make them impotent and dazed. - - O tangled and half-strangled child, you shrink - For ever from yourself, and wear a pose - Of nimble and impenetrable pride. - Yet sometimes, wavering on the sudden brink - Of jaded bitterness, you drop your clothes - And weave a prayer into your naked stride. - - - - -YOUNG POET - - - The grinning clamour on your face - Dies abruptly, for moments: - Boldness and timidity - Are swept, transfigured, against each other. - But the glistening turmoil - Once more spurns itself with jests - That light its troubled hands. - - When too much pain has lowered - The eyelids of your mood, - A peaceful humour wraps your face. - You are like an old man - Watching children fly from his fingertips. - In your kirtle of borrowed skies - You find a sorrow luring your horizons - Into hesitating brightness.... - When night remembers, you have straightened - Into stealthy, angry calmness - Fingering it first, unsent arrow. - - - - -STEEL-MILLS: SOUTH CHICAGO - - - I - - This red hush toppling over the sky, - Wanders one step toward the stars - And dies in a questioning shiver. - The steel-mill chimneys fling their gaunt seeking - A little distance into the red - That softly combs their smoky hair. - The steel-mill chimneys only live at night - When crimson light makes love to them - And star-light trickles through the red, - Like glimpses of some far-off fairy tale. - Throughout the day the steel-mill chimneys stand - Rigidly within the wind-whirled glare: - Only night can bring them supple straightness. - - - II - - From the little, brown gate that does not see them - Because its eyes are blind with wooing soot, - An endless stream of men scatters out - Into the cool bewilderment of morning. - Upon their lips a limply child-like surrender - Curves out to the light, as though they felt - The presence of an unassuming strangeness. - The morning hides from their eyes: - They walk on, in great strides, - Like blind men swinging over a well-known scene. - Their faces twitch with echoes of iron fists: - Their faces hold a swarthy stupor - Loosened by little fingers of morning light - Until it droops into reluctant life. - And then their eyes, made flat by night, - Swell into a Madonna-like surprise - At children trooping back in huge disguise. - The oranges in lunch-room windows change - To sleek suns dipped in sleepy light, - And rounded tarts in china plates - Are like red heart-beats, resting but not dead. - A trolley-car speeds by - And seems a strident lyric of motion. - Wagons rumble down the street - Like drums enticing weariness to step.... - The hearts of these steel-striding men - Ascend and blend within their eyes, - And yet, these men are unaware of this. - They only feel a fluid relief - Voicing, in a clustered roar, - The cries of struggling thoughts unshaped by words. - But there are some who break forth from the rest. - This old Hungarian strides along - And binds naïvely-winged prayer-sandals - Upon the heavy feet of shuffling loves. - Gently, he plays with his beard - As though his fingers touched a woman’s hair. - And this young Slav whose surly blasphemy - Curls his face into a simple hate, - Has taken iron into his laugh - And uses it to hew his stony mind. - While this Italian whose deep olive skin - Shines like sunlight groping through dense leaves, - Forgets his battered happiness - And bows with mock grace to his shouting day. - Beside him is a fellow-countryman - Walking aimless, dazed with joy of motion. - Upon his face a glistening vacancy - Lights the mildly querying thoughts - That seek each other but never meet. - Behind him steps a stalwart Pole - Whose rhythmic, stately insolence - Turns the sidewalk into a grey carpet, - Grey as the shades that race across his face - And show the savage squalor of his soul. - Night has broken her heart upon him, - Only scarring his bitter smile. - A street of little, jack-o’-lantern houses - Veering into leering saloons, - Where the night, a crazy child, - Dips herself in sallow rouge - And chases oaths and heavy mirth - And even human beings: - Where the smoky sadness of the steel-mills - Wanders hesitantly into death - And drops a ghostly blur upon this girl. - Her numbly waxen, cherub face - Emerges gently from the doorway’s blackness - As though the dark had given birth to it. - And then the falling light reveals - That something of a village hangs about her: - Something slumbering and ample. - The doorway is too small to hold - Her shoulders that are like a hill’s broad curves - Dwindled in the distance.... - She is one of many earth-curved girls - Who listened to the insistent tinkle - Of wind-winged music from a far-off land: - Listened and knew not - That their own hearts faintly played. - So she ran to this far phantom, - Only finding it within herself - When the city’s sly fists rained upon it. - Then once more she fled - With a dead heart whose restless pallor - Crept to squalid wantonness, for refuge. - And now she stands within this doorway, - Uttering muffled innuendoes - To the drained men of her race. - Yet, something of a village hangs about her: - Something slumbering and ample - Stealing from the earth curves of her shoulders. - - - III - - The steel-mill workers straggle down this street, - Clanging shut the doorways of their souls, - And the sound rips their lips open. - The steel-mill workers do not know of this: - They only seek something that will sweeten - The dirt that has eaten into their flesh - And change it to raw music. - They straggle down this street, - Their faces slack and oiled with amorousness. - Like cats they play with their desires, - Biting them with little laughs - Until the sallow houses draw them in. - And then the night pursues their revelry: - Echoes from the shut doors of their souls. - - - IV - - Three bent women and a child - Stoop before the steel-mill gate - As though the morning’s ghastly murmur - Washed against them in a wave - Stiffening them into resisting curves. - One is old and floridly misshapen. - Years have melted out within her frame, - Flooding her with lukewarm loves. - The wrinkles on her flabby face - Are like a faded scrawl of pain - Scattered by the flesh on which it rests. - Her frayed shawl hanging unaware of her - Is a symbol of her heart. - The woman standing at her side - Is tall and like a slanting scarecrow - Coldly jerking in the morning’s glare. - Only when she lifts a bony hand - Tapping life against her face, - Does the image disappear. - Dead dreams dangle in her heart, - Limply hanging from their rainbow sashes, - And whenever one sash trembles, - Then, she lifts a gnarled hand to her face - And tastes a moment of departing life. - Near her stands a slimly rigid woman - With an iron fear upon her bones. - A worn strait-jacket of lines - Cuts the dying youth upon her face. - The slender child beside her, - Buried within staidly murky clothes, - Glances frightenedly up at her mother: - Glances as one who dances to a gate - And fumbles for a latch that hides itself. - Then from the rusty-reveried steel-mill gate - An endless stream of men scatter out - Into the cool bewilderment of morning. - Upon their lips a limply child-like surrender - Curves out to the light, as though they felt - The presence of an unassuming strangeness. - - - - -SOUTH STATE STREET: CHICAGO - - - I - - Rows of blankly box-like buildings - Raise their sodden architecture - Into the poised lyric of the sky. - At their feet, pawn-shops and burlesque theatres - Yawn beneath their livid confetti. - In the pawn-shop windows, violins, - Cut-glass bowls and satchels mildly blink - Upon the mottled turbulence outside, - And sit with that detached assurance - Gripping things inanimate. - Near them, slyly shaded cabarets - Stand in bland and ornate sleep, - And the glassy luridness - Of penny-arcades flays the eyes. - The black crowd clatters like an idiot’s wrath. - - - II - - Wander with me down this street - Where the spectral night is caught - Like moon-paint on a colourless lane.... - On this corner stands a woman - Sleekly, sulkily complacent - Like a tigress nibbling bits of sugar. - At her side, a brawny, white-faced man - Whose fingers waltz upon his checkered suit, - Searches for one face amidst the crowd. - (His smile is like a rambling sword.) - His elbows almost touch a snowy girl - Whose body blooms with cool withdrawal. - From her little nook of peaceful scorn - She casts unseeing eyes upon the crowd. - Near her stands a weary newsboy - With a sullenly elfin face. - The night has leaned too intimately - On the frightened scampering of his soul. - But to this old, staidly patient woman - With her softly wintry eyes, - Night bends down in gentle revelation - Undisturbed by joy or hatred. - At her side two factory girls - In slyly jaunty hats and swaggering coats, - Weave a twinkling summer with their words: - A summer where the night parades - Rakishly, and like a gold Beau Brummel. - With a gnome-like impudence - They thrust their little, pink tongues out - At men who sidle past. - To them, the frantic dinginess of day - Has melted to caressing restlessness - Tingling with the pride of breasts and hips. - At their side two dainty, languid girls - Playing with their suavely tangled dresses, - Touch the black crowd with unsearching eyes. - But the old man on the corner, - Bending over his cane like some tired warrior - Resting on a sword, peers at the crowd - With the smouldering disdain - Of a King whipped out of his domain. - For a moment he smiles uncertainly. - Then wears a look of frail sternness. - - Musty, Rabelaisian odours stray - From this naïvely gilded family-entrance - And make the body of a vagrant - Quiver as though unseen roses grazed him. - His face is blackly stubbled emptiness - Swerving to the rotted prayers of eyes. - Yet, sometimes his thin arm leaps out - And hangs a moment in the air, - As though he raised a violin of hate - And lacked the strength to play it. - A woman lurches from the family-entrance. - With tense solicitude she hugs - Her can of beer against her stunted bosom - And mumbles to herself. - The trampled blasphemy upon her face - Holds up, in death, its watery, barren eyes. - Indifferently, she brushes past the vagrant: - Life has peeled away her sense of touch. - - - III - - With groping majesty, the endless crowd - Pounds its searching chant of feet - Down this tawdrily resplendent street. - People stray into a burlesque theatre - Framed with scarlet, blankly rotund girls. - Here a burly cattle-raiser walks - With the grace of wind-swept prairie grass. - Behind him steps a slender clerk - Tendering his sprightly stridency - To the stolid, doll-like girl beside him. - At his side a heavy youth - Dully stands beneath his swaggering mask; - And a smiling man in black and white - Walks, like some Pierrot grown middle-aged. - - Mutely twinkling fragments of a romance: - Tiny lights stand over this cabaret. - Men and women jovially emboldened - Stroll beneath the curtained entrance, - And their laughs, like softly brazen cow-bells, - Change the scene to a strange Pastoral. - Hectic shepherdesses drunk with night, - Women mingle their coquettish colours.... - Suddenly, a man leaps out - From the doorway’s blazing pallor, - Smashing into the drab sidewalk. - His drunken lips and eyelids break apart - Like a clown in sudden suicide. - Then the mottled nakedness - Of the scene comes, like a blow. - - Stoically crushed in hovering grey - Night lies coldly on this street. - Momentary sounds crash into night - Like ghostly curses stifled in their birth.... - And over all the blankly box-like buildings - Raise their sodden architecture - Into the poised lyric of the sky. - - - - -TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES: - - - Italicized text is surrounded by underscores: _italics_. - - Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Advice, by Mawell Bodenheim - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVICE *** - -***** This file should be named 60252-0.txt or 60252-0.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/5/60252/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll -have to check the laws of the country where you are located before using -this ebook. - - - -Title: Advice - A Book of Poems - -Author: Mawell Bodenheim - -Release Date: September 7, 2019 [EBook #60252] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVICE *** - - - - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. Brown, and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) - - - - - - -</pre> - - - - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<h1>ADVICE</h1> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="center"><b><i>NEW POETRY</i></b><br /> - -<b><i>FALL, 1920</i></b></p> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">OCTOBER</div> -<div class="indent2"><i>By Robert Bridges</i></div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">THE FORERUNNER</div> -<div class="indent2"><i>By Kahlil Gibran</i></div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">WORDSWORTH: AN ANTHOLOGY</div> -<div class="indent2"><i>By R. Cobden-Sanderson</i></div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">ADVICE</div> -<div class="indent2"><i>By Maxwell Bodenheim</i></div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_title.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<hr class="tb" /> -<div class="titlepage"> -<p class="ph1">ADVICE</p> - -<p class="ph2">A BOOK OF POEMS</p> - -<p class="ph3">By MAXWELL BODENHEIM</p> - -<div class="figcenter"><img src="images/i_titlelogo.jpg" alt="" /></div> - -<p>NEW YORK<br /> -<span class="large">ALFREDAKNOPF</span><br /> -1920</p> -</div> - -<hr class="tb" /> - -<p class="center"> -COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY<br /> -ALFRED A. KNOPF, <span class="smcap">Inc.</span><br /> -<br /> -<br /> -<small>PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA</small></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="center"> -TO<br /> -<span class="large">MINNA</span><br /> -<small>WHOSE SMILE IS MY THRONE</small></p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p>Some of the poems which compose this book -have appeared in the <i>Yale Review</i>, the <i>Smart -Set</i>, the <i>New Republic</i>, <i>Reedy’s Mirror</i>, the -<i>Dial</i>, the <i>Touchstone</i>, the <i>Little Review</i>, <i>Poetry: -A Magazine of Verse</i>, the <i>Century</i>, and the <i>New -York Tribune</i>. They are good, in spite of their -numerous appearances.</p> - - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="chapter"> - -<h2 class="nobreak">CONTENTS</h2></div> - -<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="2" summary="table"> - - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Street-Pavement</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_13"> 13</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Butter-Cup</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_14"> 14</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a River Steamboat</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_15"> 15</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Foundry Workers</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_16"> 16</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Hornd Toad</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_18"> 18</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Forest</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_19"> 19</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Rattlesnake Mountain Fable I</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_21"> 21</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Bluebird</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_23"> 23</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">To a Friend</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_24"> 24</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Woman</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_25"> 25</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Rattlesnake Mountain Fable II</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_26"> 26</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Butterfly</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_28"> 28</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Pool</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_29"> 29</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">When Fools Dispute</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_30"> 30</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to a Grass-Blade</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_31"> 31</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">East-Side: New York</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_32"> 32</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">To a Man</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_33"> 33</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Child Meditates</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_34"> 34</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Pierrot Objects</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_36"> 36</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Columbine Reflects</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_37"> 37</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Rattle Snake Mountain Dialogue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_38"> 38</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Dialogue Between a Past and Present Poet</span> </td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_41"> 41</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Smiles</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_43"> 43</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Courtesan Chats</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_45"> 45</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">The Mountebank Criticizes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_47"> 47</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">To Li T’ai Po</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_49"> 49</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Insanity</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_51"> 51</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Track-Workers</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_53"> 53</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Figure</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_55"> 55</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Negroes</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_56"> 56</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Broadway</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_58"> 58</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Fifth Avenue</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_60"> 60</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Young Woman</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_62"> 62</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Two Women on a Street</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_64"> 64</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Advice to Maple Trees</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_66"> 66</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Boarding House Episode</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_67"> 67</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Vaudeville Moment</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_70"> 70</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">To Orrick Johns</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_72"> 72</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Young Poet</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_73"> 73</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">Steel Mills: South Chicago</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_74"> 74</a></td></tr> - -<tr><td><span class="smcap">South State Street: Chicago</span></td><td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_81"> 81</a></td></tr> -</table> - - - -<hr class="chap" /> - - -<p class="ph1">ADVICE</p> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A STREET-PAVEMENT</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Lacerated grey has bitten</div> -<div class="verse">Into your shapeless humility.</div> -<div class="verse">Little episodes of roving</div> -<div class="verse">Strew their hieroglyphics on your muteness.</div> -<div class="verse">Life has given you heavy stains</div> -<div class="verse">Like an ointment growing stale.</div> -<div class="verse">Endless feet tap over you</div> -<div class="verse">With a maniac insistence.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O unresisting street-pavement,</div> -<div class="verse">Keep your passive insolence</div> -<div class="verse">At the dwarfs who scorn you with their feet.</div> -<div class="verse">Only one who lies upon his back</div> -<div class="verse">Can disregard the stars.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A BUTTER-CUP</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Undistinguished butter-cup</div> -<div class="verse">Lost among myriads of others,</div> -<div class="verse">To the red ant eyeing you</div> -<div class="verse">You are giant stillness.</div> -<div class="verse">He pauses on the boulder of a clod,</div> -<div class="verse">Baffled by your nearness to the sky.</div> -<div class="verse">But to the black loam at your feet</div> -<div class="verse">You are the atom of a pent-up dream.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Undistinguished butter-cup,</div> -<div class="verse">Take your little breath of contemplation,</div> -<div class="verse">Undisturbed by haughty tricks of space.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A RIVER STEAM-BOAT</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The brass band plays upon your decks,</div> -<div class="verse">Like a sturdy harlot aping mirth,</div> -<div class="verse">And people in starched shields</div> -<div class="verse">Stuff their passions with sweet words,</div> -<div class="verse">Life is swishing in the air,</div> -<div class="verse">Like a tipsy, unseen bridegroom.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O humbly grunting river boat,</div> -<div class="verse">Take the churning water and the sun</div> -<div class="verse">Like one who plays with his own chains</div> -<div class="verse">And flings their turmoil to the sky.</div> -<div class="verse">Only a voice can leap above high walls.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">FOUNDRY WORKERS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Brown faces twisted back</div> -<div class="verse">Into an ecstasy of tight resistance;</div> -<div class="verse">Eyes that are huge sweat drops</div> -<div class="verse">Unheeded by the struggle underneath them—</div> -<div class="verse">Throughout the night you stagger under walls</div> -<div class="verse">Where life is squeezed to squealing bitterness.</div> -<div class="verse">Beneath your heaving flash of limbs</div> -<div class="verse">Your thoughts are smashed to a dejected trance</div> -<div class="verse">And you are swept, like empty mites,</div> -<div class="verse">Into a glistening frenzy of motion....</div> -<div class="verse">Yet, on a Sunday afternoon</div> -<div class="verse">I have seen you straightening your backs with slow smiles;</div> -<div class="verse">Walking through the streets</div> -<div class="verse">And patiently groping for lost outlines.</div> -<div class="verse">Your lips were placid bruises</div> -<div class="verse">Almost fearing to relax,</div> -<div class="verse">And often out upon some green</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Your legs swung themselves into long lost shapes.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Perhaps upon your death-beds</div> -<div class="verse">You will lift your hands, with a wraith of grace,</div> -<div class="verse">Showing life a last, weak curve</div> -<div class="verse">Of the rhythm he could not kill.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A HORND TOAD</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Hornd Toad of cloven brown,</div> -<div class="verse">Rock souls have dwindled to your eyes</div> -<div class="verse">And thrown a splintered end upon your blood.</div> -<div class="verse">Night and day have vanished</div> -<div class="verse">To you, who squat and watch</div> -<div class="verse">Years loosen one sand grain until</div> -<div class="verse">Its fall becomes your moment.</div> -<div class="verse">Tall things plunge over you,</div> -<div class="verse">Slashing their dreams with motion</div> -<div class="verse">That holds the death of all they seek,</div> -<div class="verse">But you, to whom fierce winds are ripples,</div> -<div class="verse">Do not move lest you lose the taste of stillness.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Hornd Toad of cloven brown,</div> -<div class="verse">Never hop from your grey rock crevice</div> -<div class="verse">Mute with interwoven beginnings and ends.</div> -<div class="verse">The fluid lies of motion</div> -<div class="verse">Leave no remembrance behind.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A FOREST</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">O trees, to whom the darkness is a child</div> -<div class="verse">Scampering in and out of your long, green beards;</div> -<div class="verse">O trees, to whom sunlight is a tattered pilgrim</div> -<div class="verse">Counting his dreams within your hermitage</div> -<div class="verse">And slipping down the road, in twilight robes;</div> -<div class="verse">O trees, whose leaves make an incense of sound</div> -<div class="verse">Reeling with the beat of your caught feet,</div> -<div class="verse">Do not mingle your tips in startled hatred,</div> -<div class="verse">When little men come to fell you.</div> -<div class="verse">These men will saw you into strips</div> -<div class="verse">Of pointed brooding, blind with paint,</div> -<div class="verse">But underneath you men will chase</div> -<div class="verse">The grey staccato of their lives</div> -<div class="verse">Down a glaring maze of walls</div> -<div class="verse">Much harder than your own.</div> -<div class="verse">And when, at last, the deep brown gaze</div> -<div class="verse">Of stolidly amorous time steals over you,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> -<div class="verse">The little men who bit into your hearts</div> -<div class="verse">Will stray off in a patter of rabbits’ feet.</div> -<div class="verse">Look down upon these children then</div> -<div class="verse">With the aloof and weary tolerance</div> -<div class="verse">That all still things possess,</div> -<div class="verse">O trees, to whom the darkness was a child</div> -<div class="verse">Scampering in and out of your long, green beards.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE I</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Rounded to a wide eyed clownishness</div> -<div class="verse">Crowned by the shifting bravado</div> -<div class="verse">Of his long, brown ears,</div> -<div class="verse">The rabbit peeked at the sky.</div> -<div class="verse">To him, the sky seemed an angelic</div> -<div class="verse">Pasture stripped to phantom tranquility,</div> -<div class="verse">Where one could nibble thoughtfully.</div> -<div class="verse">He longed to leave his mild furtiveness</div> -<div class="verse">And speak to a boldness puzzled by his flesh.</div> -<div class="verse">With one long circle of despairing grace</div> -<div class="verse">He flashed into the air,</div> -<div class="verse">Leaping toward his heaven.</div> -<div class="verse">But down he crashed against a snake</div> -<div class="verse">Who ate him with a meditative interest.</div> -<div class="verse">From that day on the snake was filled</div> -<div class="verse">With little, meek whispers of concern.</div> -<div class="verse">The crushed and peaceful rabbit’s dream</div> -<div class="verse">Cast a groping hush upon his blood.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> -<div class="verse">He curled inertly on a rock,</div> -<div class="verse">In cryptic, wilted savageness.</div> -<div class="verse">In the end, his dry, grey body</div> -<div class="verse">Was scattered out upon the rock,</div> -<div class="verse">Like a story that could not be told.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A BLUE-BIRD</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Who can make a delicate adventure</div> -<div class="verse">Of walking on the ground?</div> -<div class="verse">Who can make grass-blades</div> -<div class="verse">Arcades for pertly careless straying?</div> -<div class="verse">You alone, who skim against these leaves,</div> -<div class="verse">Turning all desire into light whips</div> -<div class="verse">Moulded by your deep blue wing-tips,</div> -<div class="verse">You who shrill your unconcern</div> -<div class="verse">Into the sternly antique sky.</div> -<div class="verse">You to whom all things</div> -<div class="verse">Hold an equal kiss of touch.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Mincing, wanton blue-bird,</div> -<div class="verse">Grimace at the hoofs of passing men.</div> -<div class="verse">You alone can lose yourself</div> -<div class="verse">Within a sky, and rob it of its blue!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TO A FRIEND</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Your head is steel cut into drooping lines</div> -<div class="verse">That make a mask satirically meek:</div> -<div class="verse">Your face is like a tired devil weak</div> -<div class="verse">From drinking many vague and unsought wines.</div> -<div class="verse">The sullen skepticism of your eyes</div> -<div class="verse">For ever trying to transcend itself,</div> -<div class="verse">Is often entered by a wistful elf</div> -<div class="verse">Who sits navely unperturbed and wise.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">And this same remnant, with its youthful wiles</div> -<div class="verse">Held curiously apart from blasphemies,</div> -<div class="verse">Twirls starlight shivers out upon your sneers</div> -<div class="verse">And changes them to little, startled smiles.</div> -<div class="verse">And all your insolence drops to its knees</div> -<div class="verse">Before the half-won grandeur of past years.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A WOMAN</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The sloping lines of your shoulders</div> -<div class="verse">Speak of Chinese pagodas.</div> -<div class="verse">They clash with your western face</div> -<div class="verse">Where child and courtesan</div> -<div class="verse">Clasp each other in a feigned embrace.</div> -<div class="verse">Life, to you, is a liquid mirror.</div> -<div class="verse">You stand with delicate, perpetual amazement,</div> -<div class="verse">Vainly seeking your reflection.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">RATTLESNAKE MOUNTAIN FABLE II</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">August sauntered down the mountain-side,</div> -<div class="verse">Dropping mottled, turbid wraiths of decay.</div> -<div class="verse">The air was like an old priest</div> -<div class="verse">Disrobing without embarrassment</div> -<div class="verse">Before the dark and candid gaze of night.</div> -<div class="verse">But these things brought no pause</div> -<div class="verse">To the saucily determined squirrel.</div> -<div class="verse">His eyes were hungrily upturned</div> -<div class="verse">To where the stars hung—icily clustered nuts</div> -<div class="verse">Dotting trees of solitude.</div> -<div class="verse">He saw the stars just over the horizon,</div> -<div class="verse">And they seemed to grow</div> -<div class="verse">On trees that he could reach.</div> -<div class="verse">So he scampered on, from branch to branch,</div> -<div class="verse">Wondering why the fairy nut-trees</div> -<div class="verse">Ran away from him.</div> -<div class="verse">But, looking down, he spied</div> -<div class="verse">A softly wild cheeked mountain pool,</div> -<div class="verse">And there a handful of fairy nuts</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Bit into the indigo cupping them.</div> -<div class="verse">With a squeal of weary happiness</div> -<div class="verse">The squirrel plunged into the mountain pool,</div> -<div class="verse">And as he drowned within its soundless heart</div> -<div class="verse">The fairy nuts were jigging over him,</div> -<div class="verse">Like the unheard stirring of a poem.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A BUTTERFLY</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Aimless petal of the wind,</div> -<div class="verse">Spinning gently weird circles,</div> -<div class="verse">To the flowers underneath</div> -<div class="verse">You are a drunken king of motion;</div> -<div class="verse">To the plunging winds above</div> -<div class="verse">You are momentary indecision.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Aimless petal of the wind,</div> -<div class="verse">Waver carelessly against this June.</div> -<div class="verse">The universe, like you, is but</div> -<div class="verse">The drowsy arm of stillness</div> -<div class="verse">Spinning gently weird circles in his sleep.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A POOL</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Be a liquid threshold for the dawn</div> -<div class="verse">And let night touch you with his back.</div> -<div class="verse">The earth-bowl prisoning you, and cold night winds</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Are only pause and rhythm</div> -<div class="verse">Within an endless fantasy,</div> -<div class="verse">But you, like they, can be</div> -<div class="verse">A dream from the loins of a dream,</div> -<div class="verse">And build a golden stairway of escape.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O coolly unperturbed pool,</div> -<div class="verse">Slap your ripples in laughter at men,</div> -<div class="verse">Who splash you with their lordly hands.</div> -<div class="verse">Time is but a phantom dagger</div> -<div class="verse">That motion lifts to slay itself.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">WHEN FOOLS DISPUTE</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">A trickle of dawn insinuated itself</div> -<div class="verse">Through the crevices of black satiation.</div> -<div class="verse">The elderly trees coughed, lightly, hurriedly,</div> -<div class="verse">In remonstrance against the invasion.</div> -<div class="verse">Lean with a virginal poison,</div> -<div class="verse">The grass-blades shook, immune to light and time.</div> -<div class="verse">A bird lost in a tree</div> -<div class="verse">Shrilly flirted with its energy....</div> -<div class="verse">One fool, in the garden, spoke to another.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO A GRASS-BLADE</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Thin and dark green symbol</div> -<div class="verse">Of an earth forever raising</div> -<div class="verse">Myriads of chained wings,</div> -<div class="verse">Breezes have a form, to you,</div> -<div class="verse">And sounds break into vivid shape.</div> -<div class="verse">The proud finality of tiny sight</div> -<div class="verse">Cannot lure your pliant blindness.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Thin and dark green blade,</div> -<div class="verse">Be not awed by trees and men</div> -<div class="verse">Whose sound is all that gives them life.</div> -<div class="verse">You reach the sky because your face</div> -<div class="verse">Is not turned toward it.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">EAST-SIDE: NEW YORK</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">An old Jew munches an apple,</div> -<div class="verse">With conquering immersion</div> -<div class="verse">All the thwarted longings of his life</div> -<div class="verse">Urge on his determined teeth.</div> -<div class="verse">His face is hard and pear-shaped;</div> -<div class="verse">His eyes are muddy capitulations;</div> -<div class="verse">But his mouth is incongruous.</div> -<div class="verse">Softly, slightly distended,</div> -<div class="verse">Like that of a whistling girl,</div> -<div class="verse">It is ingenuously haunting</div> -<div class="verse">And makes the rest of him a soiled, grey background.</div> -<div class="verse">Hopes that lie within their grave</div> -<div class="verse">Of submissive sternness,</div> -<div class="verse">Have spilled their troubled ghosts upon this mouth,</div> -<div class="verse">And a tortured belief</div> -<div class="verse">Has dwindled into tenderness upon it....</div> -<div class="verse">He trudges off behind his push-cart</div> -<div class="verse">And the Ghetto walks away with him.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TO A MAN</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Master of earnest equilibrium,</div> -<div class="verse">You are a Christ made delicate</div> -<div class="verse">By centuries of baffled meditation.</div> -<div class="verse">You curve an old myth to a peaceful sword,</div> -<div class="verse">Like some sleep-walker challenging</div> -<div class="verse">The dream that gave him shape.</div> -<div class="verse">With gentle, antique insistence</div> -<div class="verse">You place your child’s hand on the universe</div> -<div class="verse">And trace a smile of love within its depths.</div> -<div class="verse">And yet, the whirling scarecrow men have made</div> -<div class="verse">Of something that eludes their sight,</div> -<div class="verse">May have the startling simplicity of your smile.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Once every thousand years</div> -<div class="verse">Stillness fades into a shape</div> -<div class="verse">That men may crucify.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE CHILD MEDITATES</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The oak-tree in front of my house</div> -<div class="verse">Smells different every morning.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes it smells fresh and wise</div> -<div class="verse">Like my mother’s hair.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes it stands ashamed</div> -<div class="verse">Because it doesn’t own the smell</div> -<div class="verse">It borrowed from our flower-garden.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes it has a windy smell,</div> -<div class="verse">As though it had come back from a long walk.</div> -<div class="verse">The oak-tree in front of my house</div> -<div class="verse">Has different smells, like grown up people.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">My doll hides behind her pink cheeks,</div> -<div class="verse">So that you can’t see when she moves,</div> -<div class="verse">But it doesn’t matter because</div> -<div class="verse">She always moves when no one is looking,</div> -<div class="verse">And that is why people think she is still.</div> -<div class="verse">People laugh when I say that my doll is alive,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> -<div class="verse">But if she were dead, my fingers</div> -<div class="verse">Wouldn’t know that they were touching her.</div> -<div class="verse">She lives inside a little house.</div> -<div class="verse">And laughs because I cannot find the door.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The colours in my room</div> -<div class="verse">Meet each other and hesitate.</div> -<div class="verse">Is that what people call shape?</div> -<div class="verse">Nobody seems to think so,</div> -<div class="verse">But I believe that lines are dead shapes</div> -<div class="verse">Unless they fall against each other</div> -<div class="verse">And look surprised, like the colours in my room!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">PIERROT OBJECTS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">They have made me an airy apology</div> -<div class="verse">For the crude insistence of their flesh!</div> -<div class="verse">They have made me twist my tongue</div> -<div class="verse">Into fickle nonchalance!</div> -<div class="verse">With a languid impudence</div> -<div class="verse">I have tarried underneath the moon,</div> -<div class="verse">While the haggard reticence</div> -<div class="verse">Of their lives forgot itself within me!</div> -<div class="verse">Well, I am rebelling</div> -<div class="verse">At the men who make me</div> -<div class="verse">Their grimacing marionnette!</div> -<div class="verse">Let them find another dancing-teacher</div> -<div class="verse">For their dull, unruffled fears.</div> -<div class="verse">I am off to tear my black and white</div> -<div class="verse">Into shreds, within a valley</div> -<div class="verse">Where nakedness and colours do not need</div> -<div class="verse">An artificial night to make them brave!</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">COLUMBINE REFLECTS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">They have moulded my face with a tear and a sneer.</div> -<div class="verse">They have sandalled me with caprice,</div> -<div class="verse">And the heart they have given me</div> -<div class="verse">Is a bag of red tissue-paper.</div> -<div class="verse">Their loves are ragged and fat</div> -<div class="verse">And seek the consolation</div> -<div class="verse">Of a tinkling effigy!</div> -<div class="verse">But even an effigy may wink</div> -<div class="verse">An eye at its slinking masters!</div> -<div class="verse">I can laugh at their frantic, tattered arms</div> -<div class="verse">Spinning me into impish posturings,</div> -<div class="verse">And jeer at the faces behind me!</div> -<div class="verse">After my play I go to sleep,</div> -<div class="verse">But they must sit, heavily looking at each other.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">RATTLE-SNAKE MOUNTAIN DIALOGUE</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Rattle-Snake Mountain</span></div> -<div class="verse">Every night the sky grips my shoulder, in pain.</div> -<div class="verse">The cows upon my slope</div> -<div class="verse">Attack their blades of grass with less decision.</div> -<div class="verse">The boulders reaching in to form my ribs,</div> -<div class="verse">Are touched by evening dizziness, to dust,</div> -<div class="verse">And lose their fierce pretence of hardness.</div> -<div class="verse">Three crows in a row</div> -<div class="verse">Search for clearer tongues, with steady discords.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Man</span></div> -<div class="verse">The nervous dissolution</div> -<div class="verse">Which men call beauty stands</div> -<div class="verse">Sternly watching itself.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Rattle-Snake Mountain</span></div> -<div class="verse">Evening, staggering under dead men’s tongues,</div> -<div class="verse">Makes light of my loneliness.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> -<div class="verse">He comes like a madman dissolved</div> -<div class="verse">Into unbearable quietness.</div> -<div class="verse">But, drinking my vigorous muteness,</div> -<div class="verse">He melts into that stream of seeking motion</div> -<div class="verse">Which men call morning.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Man</span></div> -<div class="verse">You teach him to make his recompense</div> -<div class="verse">A solitary unfolding</div> -<div class="verse">Walking perilously</div> -<div class="verse">Between the scowls of life and death.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Rattle-Snake Mountain</span></div> -<div class="verse">When he goes he is something more than himself.</div> -<div class="verse">He holds a lean alertness</div> -<div class="verse">That, green as any leaf,</div> -<div class="verse">Takes the flutterings of life, unperturbed.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Man</span></div> -<div class="verse">Beauty is a proud stare</div> -<div class="verse">Challenging all things to remove</div> -<div class="verse">Their inattentive clamours:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And some things bow abruptly,</div> -<div class="verse">Timidly stroking their untouched skins.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Rattle-Snake Mountain</span></div> -<div class="verse">And thus evening bows into morning.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">DIALOGUE BETWEEN A PAST AND -PRESENT POET</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Past Poet</span></div> -<div class="verse">I wrote of roses on a woman’s breast,</div> -<div class="verse">Glowing as though her blood</div> -<div class="verse">Had welled out to a spellbound fierceness;</div> -<div class="verse">And the glad, light mixture of her hair.</div> -<div class="verse">I wrote of God and angels.</div> -<div class="verse">They stole the simple blush of my desire</div> -<div class="verse">To make their isolated triumph human.</div> -<div class="verse">Knights and kings flooded my song,</div> -<div class="verse">Catching with their glittering clash</div> -<div class="verse">The unheard boldness in my life.</div> -<div class="verse">Gods and nymphs slipped through my voice,</div> -<div class="verse">And with the lofty scurrying of their feet</div> -<div class="verse">Spurned the smirched angers of my days.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Present Poet</span></div> -<div class="verse">You raised an unhurried, church-like escape.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> -<div class="verse">You lingered in shimmering idleness;</div> -<div class="verse">Or lengthened a prayer into a lance;</div> -<div class="verse">Or strengthened a thought till it heaved off all of life</div> -<div class="verse">And dropped its sightless heaven into your smile.</div> -<div class="verse">Life, to us, is a colourless tangle.</div> -<div class="verse">Like madly gorgeous weavers</div> -<div class="verse">Our eyes reiterate themselves on life.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Past Poet</span></div> -<div class="verse">My towering simplicity</div> -<div class="verse">Loosening an evening of belief</div> -<div class="verse">Over the things it dared not view,</div> -<div class="verse">Gladly shunned reality</div> -<div class="verse">Just as your mad weaver does.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse"><span class="smcap">Present Poet</span></div> -<div class="verse">Reality is a formless lure,</div> -<div class="verse">And only when we know this</div> -<div class="verse">Do we dare to be unreal.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">SMILES</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Smiles are the words beyond the words</div> -<div class="verse">That thoughts abandon helplessly.</div> -<div class="verse">Upon this nervous shop-girl’s face,</div> -<div class="verse">Where clusters of tiny limpness meet,</div> -<div class="verse">A frightened spark leaps high and drops</div> -<div class="verse">Into the hot pause of a banished love.</div> -<div class="verse">A lustrelessly plump</div> -<div class="verse">Girl beside her does not know</div> -<div class="verse">That her face for moments glows</div> -<div class="verse">Into a helpless solitude.</div> -<div class="verse">Upon an old man’s face</div> -<div class="verse">Are gleams of meek embarrassment—</div> -<div class="verse">The faded presence of some old debt?</div> -<div class="verse">This woman’s face is scorched</div> -<div class="verse">By a torch that falls from weary hands</div> -<div class="verse">And makes her laugh an unheard lie.</div> -<div class="verse">The face of this tamed sprite</div> -<div class="verse">Shimmers with an understanding</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Of the opaque loss she cannot bear,</div> -<div class="verse">And I see that smiles are sometimes</div> -<div class="verse">Words beyond the words</div> -<div class="verse">That thoughts abandon hopefully.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE COURTESAN CHATS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Last night I met a passive man</div> -<div class="verse">With almost no curve to his face,</div> -<div class="verse">And skin relentlessly white.</div> -<div class="verse">He made me tell his fortune</div> -<div class="verse">With a pack of cards.</div> -<div class="verse">“Jack of hearts—your love will be</div> -<div class="verse">A scullion overturning trays of food</div> -<div class="verse">And standing dubiously in their midst.”</div> -<div class="verse">“Queen of diamonds—you will have a wife</div> -<div class="verse">Like a thistle dipped in frost,</div> -<div class="verse">Helpless in your sheathed hands.”</div> -<div class="verse">“Deuce of clubs—a downcast jester</div> -<div class="verse">Will pester you with slanting malice</div> -<div class="verse">When you seek to play the king.”</div> -<div class="verse">“Ace of hearts—your life will stand</div> -<div class="verse">Straight in a desperate majesty,</div> -<div class="verse">Its lurid robes ever slipping</div> -<div class="verse">And one wound endlessly dripping.”</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> -<div class="verse">The passive man blew out a candle</div> -<div class="verse">On the table and bade me leave,</div> -<div class="verse">Not desiring me to see his face.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">THE MOUNTEBANK CRITICIZES</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">I lose all sense of profiles,</div> -<div class="verse">Strolling through your greys and blacks and browns!</div> -<div class="verse">No man bestows his orange robe</div> -<div class="verse">Soberly upon your uncoloured pavements,</div> -<div class="verse">Rebuking life for being death.</div> -<div class="verse">No woman taunts her sorrows</div> -<div class="verse">With a coloured haughtiness.</div> -<div class="verse">When you take to colours, you are ashamed,</div> -<div class="verse">Like pages nibbling at a pilfered tart.</div> -<div class="verse">You go back quickly to your coldness.</div> -<div class="verse">And since you have no colours on your clothes,</div> -<div class="verse">You walk in straight and measured lilts</div> -<div class="verse">As befits the seriously blind.</div> -<div class="verse">Your women do not stroll as though</div> -<div class="verse">Each step were a timid intrigue</div> -<div class="verse">Woven into the climax to which they fare.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Pistols, rhapsodies and heavy odours</div> -<div class="verse">Drugged the lustre of my time.</div> -<div class="verse">Yet, we had a virtue.</div> -<div class="verse">We lavished colours on our backs</div> -<div class="verse">And ravished our sorrow with brightness</div> -<div class="verse">That often gave a lightness to our feet!</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TO LI T’AI PO</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">They are writing poems to you:</div> -<div class="verse">White devils who have not</div> -<div class="verse">Smeared the distant yellow of your life</div> -<div class="verse">Upon their skins.</div> -<div class="verse">Faces where snob and harlequin</div> -<div class="verse">Ogle each other in two, cold colours,</div> -<div class="verse">White and red;</div> -<div class="verse">Faces where middle age</div> -<div class="verse">Sits, tearing a last gardenia;</div> -<div class="verse">Faces continually cracked</div> -<div class="verse">By the brittle larceny of age;</div> -<div class="verse">Faces where emotions</div> -<div class="verse">Stand disarmed within a calm mirage:</div> -<div class="verse">These faces bend over paper</div> -<div class="verse">And steal from you a little silver and red</div> -<div class="verse">So that their lives may seem to bleed</div> -<div class="verse">Under the prick of a flashing need.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> -<div class="verse">The old and tired smile</div> -<div class="verse">Of one who spies too much within himself</div> -<div class="verse">To spare the effort of a halting frown,</div> -<div class="verse">Brushed its sceptre over your face.</div> -<div class="verse">You gave kind eyes to your hope,</div> -<div class="verse">Desiring it to grope unfearing</div> -<div class="verse">Underneath the toppling mountain-tops.</div> -<div class="verse">The wine you drank was a lake</div> -<div class="verse">In which you splashed and found a vigour;</div> -<div class="verse">The wine you drank was void of taste.</div> -<div class="verse">Your yellow skin resembled</div> -<div class="verse">A balanced docility</div> -<div class="verse">Smiling at all things—even at itself—</div> -<div class="verse">Li T’ai Po.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">INSANITY</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Like a vivid hyperbole,</div> -<div class="verse">The sun plunged into April’s freshness,</div> -<div class="verse">And struck its sparkling madness</div> -<div class="verse">Against the barnlike dejection</div> -<div class="verse">Of this dark red insane asylum.</div> -<div class="verse">A softly clutching noise</div> -<div class="verse">Stumbled from the open windows.</div> -<div class="verse">Now and then obliquely reeling shrieks</div> -<div class="verse">Rose, as though from men</div> -<div class="verse">To whom death had assumed</div> -<div class="verse">An inexpressibly kindly face.</div> -<div class="verse">A man stood at one window,</div> -<div class="verse">His gaunt face trembling underneath</div> -<div class="verse">A feverish jauntiness.</div> -<div class="verse">A long white feather slanted back</div> -<div class="verse">Upon his almost shapeless hat,</div> -<div class="verse">Like an innocent evasion.</div> -<div class="verse">Hotly incessant, his voice</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Methodically flogged the April air:</div> -<div class="verse">A voice that held the clashing bones</div> -<div class="verse">Of happiness and fear;</div> -<div class="verse">A voice in which emotion</div> -<div class="verse">Sharply ridiculed itself;</div> -<div class="verse">A monstrously vigorous voice</div> -<div class="verse">Mockingly tearing at life</div> -<div class="verse">With an unanswerable question.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Hollowed out by his howl,</div> -<div class="verse">I turned and saw an asylum guard.</div> -<div class="verse">His petulantly flabby face</div> -<div class="verse">Rolled into deathlike chips of eyes.</div> -<div class="verse">He bore the aimless confidence</div> -<div class="verse">Of one contentedly playing with other men’s wings.</div> -<div class="verse">He walked away; the man above still shrieked.</div> -<div class="verse">I could not separate them.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TRACK-WORKERS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The rails you carry cut into your hands,</div> -<div class="verse">Like the sharp lips of an unsought lover.</div> -<div class="verse">As you stumble over the ties</div> -<div class="verse">Sunlight is clinging, yellow spit</div> -<div class="verse">Raining down upon your faces.</div> -<div class="verse">You are the living cuspidors of day.</div> -<div class="verse">Dirt, its teasing ghost, dust,</div> -<div class="verse">And passionless kicks of steel, fill you.</div> -<div class="verse">Flowers sprouting near the tracks,</div> -<div class="verse">Brush their lightly odoured hands</div> -<div class="verse">In vain against your stale jackets of sweat.</div> -<div class="verse">Within you, minds and hearts</div> -<div class="verse">Are snoring to the curt rhythm of your breath.</div> -<div class="verse">You do not see this blustering blackbird</div> -<div class="verse">Promenading on a barbed-wire fence.</div> -<div class="verse">He eyes you with spritelike hauteur,</div> -<div class="verse">Unable to understand</div> -<div class="verse">Why your motions endlessly copy each other,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> -<div class="verse">One of you, a meek and burly Pole,</div> -<div class="verse">Peers a moment at the strutting blackbird</div> -<div class="verse">With a fleeting shade of dull resentment....</div> -<div class="verse">There is always one among you</div> -<div class="verse">Who recoils from glimpsing corpses.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">FIGURE</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Through the turbulent servility</div> -<div class="verse">Of a churlish city street</div> -<div class="verse">He strides opaquely; nothing in his walk</div> -<div class="verse">Resembles an advancing gleam.</div> -<div class="verse">His legs are muffled iron</div> -<div class="verse">Stubbornly following even thoughts,</div> -<div class="verse">His gaily pugnacious head</div> -<div class="verse">Seems worried because no dread</div> -<div class="verse">Remains for it to slay.</div> -<div class="verse">His eyes hold an austerity</div> -<div class="verse">That recalls itself while leaping,</div> -<div class="verse">And often melts into amusement.</div> -<div class="verse">The bent poise of his body</div> -<div class="verse">Tells of walls that threw him back,</div> -<div class="verse">Only to crumble underneath</div> -<div class="verse">The stunned friendliness of his face.</div> -<div class="verse">Through the angularly churlish street</div> -<div class="verse">He walks, and stoops beneath the captured weight</div> -<div class="verse">Of eyes that do not see him.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">NEGROES</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">The loose eyes of an old man</div> -<div class="verse">Shone aloof upon his boyish face;</div> -<div class="verse">And a sluggish innocence</div> -<div class="verse">Hugged his dull brown skin.</div> -<div class="verse">He sang a hymn caught from his elders</div> -<div class="verse">And his voice resembled</div> -<div class="verse">A quavering, feverish laugh</div> -<div class="verse">Softened in a swaying cradle.</div> -<div class="verse">His life had found a refuge in his voice,</div> -<div class="verse">And the rest of him was sickly flesh</div> -<div class="verse">Ignorant of life and death.</div> -<div class="verse">Like a crushed, excited clown</div> -<div class="verse">His mother shuffled out upon the porch.</div> -<div class="verse">Slowly her dark brown face resolved</div> -<div class="verse">Into the hushed and sulky look</div> -<div class="verse">Of one who stands within a dim-walled trap.</div> -<div class="verse">Lazily uncertain,</div> -<div class="verse">She raised the boy into her arms.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Then her voice swung in the air</div> -<div class="verse">Like a quavering, feverish laugh</div> -<div class="verse">Softened in a swaying cradle.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">BROADWAY</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">With sardonic futility</div> -<div class="verse">The multi-coloured crowd,</div> -<div class="verse">Hurried by fervent sensuality,</div> -<div class="verse">Flees from something carried on its back.</div> -<div class="verse">Endlessly subdued, a sound</div> -<div class="verse">Pours up from the crowd,</div> -<div class="verse">Like some one ever gasping for breath</div> -<div class="verse">To utter releasing words.</div> -<div class="verse">Through the artificial valley</div> -<div class="verse">Made by gaudy evasions,</div> -<div class="verse">The stifled crowd files up and down,</div> -<div class="verse">Stabbing thought with rapid noises.</div> -<div class="verse">Women strutting dulcetly,</div> -<div class="verse">Embroider their unappeased hungers,</div> -<div class="verse">And men stumble toward a flitting opiate.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes a moment breaks apart</div> -<div class="verse">And one can hear the knuckles</div> -<div class="verse">Of children rapping on towering doors:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Rapping on the highway</div> -<div class="verse">Where civilization parades</div> -<div class="verse">Its frozen amiabilities!</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">FIFTH AVENUE<br /> - -(<span class="smcap">New York</span>)</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">Seasons bring nothing to this gulch</div> -<div class="verse">Save a harshly intimate anecdote</div> -<div class="verse">Scrawled, here and there, on paint and stone.</div> -<div class="verse">The houses shoulder each other</div> -<div class="verse">In a forced and passionless communion.</div> -<div class="verse">Their harassed angles rise</div> -<div class="verse">Like a violent picture-puzzle</div> -<div class="verse">Hiding a story that only ruins could reveal;</div> -<div class="verse">Their straight lines, robbed of power,</div> -<div class="verse">Meet in dwarfed rebellion.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes they stand like vastly flattened faces</div> -<div class="verse">Suffering ants to crawl</div> -<div class="verse">In and out of their gaping mouths.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes, in menial attitudes</div> -<div class="verse">They stand like Gothic platitudes</div> -<div class="verse">Slipshodly carved in dark brown stone.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Tarnished solemnities of death</div> -<div class="verse">Cast their transfigured hue on this avenue.</div> -<div class="verse">The cool and indiscriminate glare</div> -<div class="verse">Of sunlight seems to desecrate a tomb,</div> -<div class="verse">And the racing people seem</div> -<div class="verse">A stream of accidental shadows.</div> -<div class="verse">Hard noises strike one’s face and make</div> -<div class="verse">It numb with momentary reality,</div> -<div class="verse">But the noiseless undertone returns</div> -<div class="verse">And they change to unreal jests</div> -<div class="verse">Made by death.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">YOUNG WOMAN</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">So we have a face</div> -<div class="verse">Cupped by tender insolences,</div> -<div class="verse">Half repenting insolences</div> -<div class="verse">Teasing their own angers.</div> -<div class="verse">Then, a tense exuberance</div> -<div class="verse">Brushes them away</div> -<div class="verse">And burns a humbly erect</div> -<div class="verse">Queen upon her face.</div> -<div class="verse">This happens in the space</div> -<div class="verse">Between a frown and indecision.</div> -<div class="verse">Her face becomes forlornly wild,</div> -<div class="verse">And a beggarly impatience</div> -<div class="verse">Hovers into furtive shame.</div> -<div class="verse">All the supplely intricate flame</div> -<div class="verse">Vanishes, and leaves no mark.</div> -<div class="verse">Her eyes are violently dark</div> -<div class="verse">With a hopeless waiting;</div> -<div class="verse">Her lips are isolated tatters—</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> -<div class="verse">All that is left of shattered recreating.</div> -<div class="verse">Then, as quickly as she fled,</div> -<div class="verse">The humble queen returns.</div> -<div class="verse">Staring and unappeased</div> -<div class="verse">She eyes her crumpled hands.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TWO WOMEN ON A STREET</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">This street is callous apathy</div> -<div class="verse">In a scale of greys and browns.</div> -<div class="verse">Its black roof-line suggests</div> -<div class="verse">Flat bodies unable to rise.</div> -<div class="verse">Even its screams are listlessness</div> -<div class="verse">Having an evil dream.</div> -<div class="verse">Its air is swarthy rawness</div> -<div class="verse">Troubled with ash cans and cellars.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">An old woman ambles on</div> -<div class="verse">With a black bag that seems part of her back,</div> -<div class="verse">And a candidly hawk-like face.</div> -<div class="verse">She croons a smothered lullaby</div> -<div class="verse">That sifts a flitting roundness</div> -<div class="verse">Into her sharply parted face.</div> -<div class="verse">Then she surrenders her hand</div> -<div class="verse">To the welter of a garbage can.</div> -<div class="verse">A hugely wilted woman slinks by</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span> -<div class="verse">With a cracked stare on her face.</div> -<div class="verse">Her eyes are beaten discs</div> -<div class="verse">Of the lamplight’s ghastly keenness.</div> -<div class="verse">She glides away as though the night</div> -<div class="verse">Were a lover flogging her;</div> -<div class="verse">Glides into the callous apathy</div> -<div class="verse">Of this street, like one who cringes</div> -<div class="verse">Happily into her lover’s hallway.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">ADVICE TO MAPLE-TREES</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="verse">O little maple-trees,</div> -<div class="verse">Slender and unkempt, looking with shaggy askance</div> -<div class="verse">Upon the moon-spiked solitude;</div> -<div class="verse">O little maple-trees,</div> -<div class="verse">Growing a little toward the sky</div> -<div class="verse">That touches you to all eyes save your own,</div> -<div class="verse">You rattle insistently for wings,</div> -<div class="verse">But wings could never tear</div> -<div class="verse">The stain of earth from your feet:</div> -<div class="verse">The earth that gnaws at you until</div> -<div class="verse">Your wing-cries strike the autumn night.</div> -<div class="verse">You see, with me, this crescent moon</div> -<div class="verse">Juggled on the tawny fingertip</div> -<div class="verse">Of a running cloud.</div> -<div class="verse">The touch of your desire, or its fall,</div> -<div class="verse">Would but be symbols of an equal death.</div> -</div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">BOARDING-HOUSE EPISODE</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Apples race into appetites:</div> -<div class="verse">The unswerving mechanism of the table</div> -<div class="verse">Hurries through the last dish of supper.</div> -<div class="verse">Then an undulating interlude</div> -<div class="verse">From people who have spent one pleasure,</div> -<div class="verse">Distractedly juggling its aftermath</div> -<div class="verse">And peering at new desires.</div> -<div class="verse">One woman gazes at another</div> -<div class="verse">While twitching murder shimmers in her eyes</div> -<div class="verse">And skims across her face.</div> -<div class="verse">Violets in a madman’s scene,</div> -<div class="verse">Suspended in the air,</div> -<div class="verse">Are the eyes of her neighbour.</div> -<div class="verse">And in between them sits the nervous man</div> -<div class="verse">With face like pouting gargoyle,</div> -<div class="verse">Whose brown eyes shout the things he cannot say:</div> -<div class="verse">Explosive evasions;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Fears too tired to shriek;</div> -<div class="verse">Renunciations groaning from their dungeons.</div> -<div class="verse">He eyes each woman, like a man</div> -<div class="verse">Solemnly trying to walk on mysterious ice.</div> -<div class="verse">Crisp inanities ripple back and forth</div> -<div class="verse">Among these three, like ghostly parrots</div> -<div class="verse">Visiting each other’s cages.</div> -<div class="verse">She with crazy, violet eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Plays with her fork, as though its clink</div> -<div class="verse">Rhymed with secret, chained thoughts;</div> -<div class="verse">She with murder in her eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">And curtly voluminous body,</div> -<div class="verse">Evenly plays her child-rle.</div> -<div class="verse">Cringing on the rim of middle age,</div> -<div class="verse">With broken shields piled at her feet,</div> -<div class="verse">She has made this man a haunted palace</div> -<div class="verse">And she stands before the door</div> -<div class="verse">She dare not open, with a dagger</div> -<div class="verse">For the woman standing at her side.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">They sit, afterwards, upon the veranda,</div> -<div class="verse">Meekly greeting the velvet swagger of evening:</div> -<div class="verse">Woman with twisted, violet eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Woman with hidden murder on her lips,</div> -<div class="verse">And man like a pouting gargoyle.</div> -<div class="verse">Then, like tired children,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Their words grow cool and lazy.</div> -<div class="verse">They draw closer to each other</div> -<div class="verse">And, with a trembling curiosity,</div> -<div class="verse">Look at each other’s hands.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">VAUDEVILLE MOMENT</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">They have carved a battle</div> -<div class="verse">Across your hard face:</div> -<div class="verse">Transfigured conflict,</div> -<div class="verse">Lines like suspended lances.</div> -<div class="verse">Your voice must be the uneven</div> -<div class="verse">Clink of the last carver’s chisel.</div> -<div class="verse">Your soul must be a pious subterfuge</div> -<div class="verse">Squinting its admiring eyes</div> -<div class="verse">At the lifeless battle lining your face....</div> -<div class="verse">Middle aged vaudeville conductor,</div> -<div class="verse">With a hunted leanness on your body,</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes the swing of your baton</div> -<div class="verse">Sways with a brooding patience</div> -<div class="verse">That violates your ended face.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Two acrobats appear,</div> -<div class="verse">With their automaton bows.</div> -<div class="verse">Their unlit motion does not strike</div> -<div class="verse">The air into a hugging flame.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> -<div class="verse">They are blue and orange corpses</div> -<div class="verse">Whirled in a sacrilegious festival.</div> -<div class="verse">They vividly resemble</div> -<div class="verse">The chiseled battle that grips</div> -<div class="verse">This lean conductor’s face:</div> -<div class="verse">Motion without life,</div> -<div class="verse">And life that holds no motion!</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">TO ORRICK JOHNS</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The tread-mill roar that ever tramps between</div> -<div class="verse">The smirched geometries of this stern place,</div> -<div class="verse">Sweeps vainly on your drowsily reckless face</div> -<div class="verse">Lost in a swirl of raped loves barely seen.</div> -<div class="verse">Sometimes your keenly pagan lips are raised</div> -<div class="verse">By thoughts too tense to shape themselves in speech:</div> -<div class="verse">Still, wounded thoughts that silently beseech</div> -<div class="verse">Your life to make them impotent and dazed.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">O tangled and half-strangled child, you shrink</div> -<div class="verse">For ever from yourself, and wear a pose</div> -<div class="verse">Of nimble and impenetrable pride.</div> -<div class="verse">Yet sometimes, wavering on the sudden brink</div> -<div class="verse">Of jaded bitterness, you drop your clothes</div> -<div class="verse">And weave a prayer into your naked stride.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">YOUNG POET</h2></div> - - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The grinning clamour on your face</div> -<div class="verse">Dies abruptly, for moments:</div> -<div class="verse">Boldness and timidity</div> -<div class="verse">Are swept, transfigured, against each other.</div> -<div class="verse">But the glistening turmoil</div> -<div class="verse">Once more spurns itself with jests</div> -<div class="verse">That light its troubled hands.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">When too much pain has lowered</div> -<div class="verse">The eyelids of your mood,</div> -<div class="verse">A peaceful humour wraps your face.</div> -<div class="verse">You are like an old man</div> -<div class="verse">Watching children fly from his fingertips.</div> -<div class="verse">In your kirtle of borrowed skies</div> -<div class="verse">You find a sorrow luring your horizons</div> -<div class="verse">Into hesitating brightness....</div> -<div class="verse">When night remembers, you have straightened</div> -<div class="verse">Into stealthy, angry calmness</div> -<div class="verse">Fingering it first, unsent arrow.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">STEEL-MILLS: SOUTH CHICAGO</h2></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="versecenter">I</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">This red hush toppling over the sky,</div> -<div class="verse">Wanders one step toward the stars</div> -<div class="verse">And dies in a questioning shiver.</div> -<div class="verse">The steel-mill chimneys fling their gaunt seeking</div> -<div class="verse">A little distance into the red</div> -<div class="verse">That softly combs their smoky hair.</div> -<div class="verse">The steel-mill chimneys only live at night</div> -<div class="verse">When crimson light makes love to them</div> -<div class="verse">And star-light trickles through the red,</div> -<div class="verse">Like glimpses of some far-off fairy tale.</div> -<div class="verse">Throughout the day the steel-mill chimneys stand</div> -<div class="verse">Rigidly within the wind-whirled glare:</div> -<div class="verse">Only night can bring them supple straightness.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="versecenter">II</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">From the little, brown gate that does not see them</div> -<div class="verse">Because its eyes are blind with wooing soot,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span> -<div class="verse">An endless stream of men scatters out</div> -<div class="verse">Into the cool bewilderment of morning.</div> -<div class="verse">Upon their lips a limply child-like surrender</div> -<div class="verse">Curves out to the light, as though they felt</div> -<div class="verse">The presence of an unassuming strangeness.</div> -<div class="verse">The morning hides from their eyes:</div> -<div class="verse">They walk on, in great strides,</div> -<div class="verse">Like blind men swinging over a well-known scene.</div> -<div class="verse">Their faces twitch with echoes of iron fists:</div> -<div class="verse">Their faces hold a swarthy stupor</div> -<div class="verse">Loosened by little fingers of morning light</div> -<div class="verse">Until it droops into reluctant life.</div> -<div class="verse">And then their eyes, made flat by night,</div> -<div class="verse">Swell into a Madonna-like surprise</div> -<div class="verse">At children trooping back in huge disguise.</div> -<div class="verse">The oranges in lunch-room windows change</div> -<div class="verse">To sleek suns dipped in sleepy light,</div> -<div class="verse">And rounded tarts in china plates</div> -<div class="verse">Are like red heart-beats, resting but not dead.</div> -<div class="verse">A trolley-car speeds by</div> -<div class="verse">And seems a strident lyric of motion.</div> -<div class="verse">Wagons rumble down the street</div> -<div class="verse">Like drums enticing weariness to step....</div> -<div class="verse">The hearts of these steel-striding men</div> -<div class="verse">Ascend and blend within their eyes,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And yet, these men are unaware of this.</div> -<div class="verse">They only feel a fluid relief</div> -<div class="verse">Voicing, in a clustered roar,</div> -<div class="verse">The cries of struggling thoughts unshaped by words.</div> -<div class="verse">But there are some who break forth from the rest.</div> -<div class="verse">This old Hungarian strides along</div> -<div class="verse">And binds navely-winged prayer-sandals</div> -<div class="verse">Upon the heavy feet of shuffling loves.</div> -<div class="verse">Gently, he plays with his beard</div> -<div class="verse">As though his fingers touched a woman’s hair.</div> -<div class="verse">And this young Slav whose surly blasphemy</div> -<div class="verse">Curls his face into a simple hate,</div> -<div class="verse">Has taken iron into his laugh</div> -<div class="verse">And uses it to hew his stony mind.</div> -<div class="verse">While this Italian whose deep olive skin</div> -<div class="verse">Shines like sunlight groping through dense leaves,</div> -<div class="verse">Forgets his battered happiness</div> -<div class="verse">And bows with mock grace to his shouting day.</div> -<div class="verse">Beside him is a fellow-countryman</div> -<div class="verse">Walking aimless, dazed with joy of motion.</div> -<div class="verse">Upon his face a glistening vacancy</div> -<div class="verse">Lights the mildly querying thoughts</div> -<div class="verse">That seek each other but never meet.</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Behind him steps a stalwart Pole</div> -<div class="verse">Whose rhythmic, stately insolence</div> -<div class="verse">Turns the sidewalk into a grey carpet,</div> -<div class="verse">Grey as the shades that race across his face</div> -<div class="verse">And show the savage squalor of his soul.</div> -<div class="verse">Night has broken her heart upon him,</div> -<div class="verse">Only scarring his bitter smile.</div> -<div class="verse">A street of little, jack-o’-lantern houses</div> -<div class="verse">Veering into leering saloons,</div> -<div class="verse">Where the night, a crazy child,</div> -<div class="verse">Dips herself in sallow rouge</div> -<div class="verse">And chases oaths and heavy mirth</div> -<div class="verse">And even human beings:</div> -<div class="verse">Where the smoky sadness of the steel-mills</div> -<div class="verse">Wanders hesitantly into death</div> -<div class="verse">And drops a ghostly blur upon this girl.</div> -<div class="verse">Her numbly waxen, cherub face</div> -<div class="verse">Emerges gently from the doorway’s blackness</div> -<div class="verse">As though the dark had given birth to it.</div> -<div class="verse">And then the falling light reveals</div> -<div class="verse">That something of a village hangs about her:</div> -<div class="verse">Something slumbering and ample.</div> -<div class="verse">The doorway is too small to hold</div> -<div class="verse">Her shoulders that are like a hill’s broad curves</div> -<div class="verse">Dwindled in the distance....</div> -<div class="verse">She is one of many earth-curved girls</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Who listened to the insistent tinkle</div> -<div class="verse">Of wind-winged music from a far-off land:</div> -<div class="verse">Listened and knew not</div> -<div class="verse">That their own hearts faintly played.</div> -<div class="verse">So she ran to this far phantom,</div> -<div class="verse">Only finding it within herself</div> -<div class="verse">When the city’s sly fists rained upon it.</div> -<div class="verse">Then once more she fled</div> -<div class="verse">With a dead heart whose restless pallor</div> -<div class="verse">Crept to squalid wantonness, for refuge.</div> -<div class="verse">And now she stands within this doorway,</div> -<div class="verse">Uttering muffled innuendoes</div> -<div class="verse">To the drained men of her race.</div> -<div class="verse">Yet, something of a village hangs about her:</div> -<div class="verse">Something slumbering and ample</div> -<div class="verse">Stealing from the earth curves of her shoulders.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="versecenter">III</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">The steel-mill workers straggle down this street,</div> -<div class="verse">Clanging shut the doorways of their souls,</div> -<div class="verse">And the sound rips their lips open.</div> -<div class="verse">The steel-mill workers do not know of this:</div> -<div class="verse">They only seek something that will sweeten</div> -<div class="verse">The dirt that has eaten into their flesh</div> -<div class="verse">And change it to raw music.</div> -<div class="verse">They straggle down this street,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Their faces slack and oiled with amorousness.</div> -<div class="verse">Like cats they play with their desires,</div> -<div class="verse">Biting them with little laughs</div> -<div class="verse">Until the sallow houses draw them in.</div> -<div class="verse">And then the night pursues their revelry:</div> -<div class="verse">Echoes from the shut doors of their souls.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="versecenter">IV</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Three bent women and a child</div> -<div class="verse">Stoop before the steel-mill gate</div> -<div class="verse">As though the morning’s ghastly murmur</div> -<div class="verse">Washed against them in a wave</div> -<div class="verse">Stiffening them into resisting curves.</div> -<div class="verse">One is old and floridly misshapen.</div> -<div class="verse">Years have melted out within her frame,</div> -<div class="verse">Flooding her with lukewarm loves.</div> -<div class="verse">The wrinkles on her flabby face</div> -<div class="verse">Are like a faded scrawl of pain</div> -<div class="verse">Scattered by the flesh on which it rests.</div> -<div class="verse">Her frayed shawl hanging unaware of her</div> -<div class="verse">Is a symbol of her heart.</div> -<div class="verse">The woman standing at her side</div> -<div class="verse">Is tall and like a slanting scarecrow</div> -<div class="verse">Coldly jerking in the morning’s glare.</div> -<div class="verse">Only when she lifts a bony hand</div> -<div class="verse">Tapping life against her face,</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> -<div class="verse">Does the image disappear.</div> -<div class="verse">Dead dreams dangle in her heart,</div> -<div class="verse">Limply hanging from their rainbow sashes,</div> -<div class="verse">And whenever one sash trembles,</div> -<div class="verse">Then, she lifts a gnarled hand to her face</div> -<div class="verse">And tastes a moment of departing life.</div> -<div class="verse">Near her stands a slimly rigid woman</div> -<div class="verse">With an iron fear upon her bones.</div> -<div class="verse">A worn strait-jacket of lines</div> -<div class="verse">Cuts the dying youth upon her face.</div> -<div class="verse">The slender child beside her,</div> -<div class="verse">Buried within staidly murky clothes,</div> -<div class="verse">Glances frightenedly up at her mother:</div> -<div class="verse">Glances as one who dances to a gate</div> -<div class="verse">And fumbles for a latch that hides itself.</div> -<div class="verse">Then from the rusty-reveried steel-mill gate</div> -<div class="verse">An endless stream of men scatter out</div> -<div class="verse">Into the cool bewilderment of morning.</div> -<div class="verse">Upon their lips a limply child-like surrender</div> -<div class="verse">Curves out to the light, as though they felt</div> -<div class="verse">The presence of an unassuming strangeness.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - - - - - - - -<div class="chapter"> -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span> -<h2 class="nobreak">SOUTH STATE STREET: CHICAGO</h2></div> - -<div class="poetry-container"> -<div class="poetry"> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="versecenter">I</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="verse">Rows of blankly box-like buildings</div> -<div class="verse">Raise their sodden architecture</div> -<div class="verse">Into the poised lyric of the sky.</div> -<div class="verse">At their feet, pawn-shops and burlesque theatres</div> -<div class="verse">Yawn beneath their livid confetti.</div> -<div class="verse">In the pawn-shop windows, violins,</div> -<div class="verse">Cut-glass bowls and satchels mildly blink</div> -<div class="verse">Upon the mottled turbulence outside,</div> -<div class="verse">And sit with that detached assurance</div> -<div class="verse">Gripping things inanimate.</div> -<div class="verse">Near them, slyly shaded cabarets</div> -<div class="verse">Stand in bland and ornate sleep,</div> -<div class="verse">And the glassy luridness</div> -<div class="verse">Of penny-arcades flays the eyes.</div> -<div class="verse">The black crowd clatters like an idiot’s wrath.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - - -<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> - - -<div class="versecenter">II</div> -</div> - -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="verse">Wander with me down this street</div> -<div class="verse">Where the spectral night is caught</div> -<div class="verse">Like moon-paint on a colourless lane....</div> -<div class="verse">On this corner stands a woman</div> -<div class="verse">Sleekly, sulkily complacent</div> -<div class="verse">Like a tigress nibbling bits of sugar.</div> -<div class="verse">At her side, a brawny, white-faced man</div> -<div class="verse">Whose fingers waltz upon his checkered suit,</div> -<div class="verse">Searches for one face amidst the crowd.</div> -<div class="verse">(His smile is like a rambling sword.)</div> -<div class="verse">His elbows almost touch a snowy girl</div> -<div class="verse">Whose body blooms with cool withdrawal.</div> -<div class="verse">From her little nook of peaceful scorn</div> -<div class="verse">She casts unseeing eyes upon the crowd.</div> -<div class="verse">Near her stands a weary newsboy</div> -<div class="verse">With a sullenly elfin face.</div> -<div class="verse">The night has leaned too intimately</div> -<div class="verse">On the frightened scampering of his soul.</div> -<div class="verse">But to this old, staidly patient woman</div> -<div class="verse">With her softly wintry eyes,</div> -<div class="verse">Night bends down in gentle revelation</div> -<div class="verse">Undisturbed by joy or hatred.</div> -<div class="verse">At her side two factory girls</div> -<div class="verse">In slyly jaunty hats and swaggering coats,</div> -<div class="verse">Weave a twinkling summer with their words:</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> -<div class="verse">A summer where the night parades</div> -<div class="verse">Rakishly, and like a gold Beau Brummel.</div> -<div class="verse">With a gnome-like impudence</div> -<div class="verse">They thrust their little, pink tongues out</div> -<div class="verse">At men who sidle past.</div> -<div class="verse">To them, the frantic dinginess of day</div> -<div class="verse">Has melted to caressing restlessness</div> -<div class="verse">Tingling with the pride of breasts and hips.</div> -<div class="verse">At their side two dainty, languid girls</div> -<div class="verse">Playing with their suavely tangled dresses,</div> -<div class="verse">Touch the black crowd with unsearching eyes.</div> -<div class="verse">But the old man on the corner,</div> -<div class="verse">Bending over his cane like some tired warrior</div> -<div class="verse">Resting on a sword, peers at the crowd</div> -<div class="verse">With the smouldering disdain</div> -<div class="verse">Of a King whipped out of his domain.</div> -<div class="verse">For a moment he smiles uncertainly.</div> -<div class="verse">Then wears a look of frail sternness.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Musty, Rabelaisian odours stray</div> -<div class="verse">From this navely gilded family-entrance</div> -<div class="verse">And make the body of a vagrant</div> -<div class="verse">Quiver as though unseen roses grazed him.</div> -<div class="verse">His face is blackly stubbled emptiness</div> -<div class="verse">Swerving to the rotted prayers of eyes.</div> -<div class="verse">Yet, sometimes his thin arm leaps out</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And hangs a moment in the air,</div> -<div class="verse">As though he raised a violin of hate</div> -<div class="verse">And lacked the strength to play it.</div> -<div class="verse">A woman lurches from the family-entrance.</div> -<div class="verse">With tense solicitude she hugs</div> -<div class="verse">Her can of beer against her stunted bosom</div> -<div class="verse">And mumbles to herself.</div> -<div class="verse">The trampled blasphemy upon her face</div> -<div class="verse">Holds up, in death, its watery, barren eyes.</div> -<div class="verse">Indifferently, she brushes past the vagrant:</div> -<div class="verse">Life has peeled away her sense of touch.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="versecenter">III</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> - -<div class="verse">With groping majesty, the endless crowd</div> -<div class="verse">Pounds its searching chant of feet</div> -<div class="verse">Down this tawdrily resplendent street.</div> -<div class="verse">People stray into a burlesque theatre</div> -<div class="verse">Framed with scarlet, blankly rotund girls.</div> -<div class="verse">Here a burly cattle-raiser walks</div> -<div class="verse">With the grace of wind-swept prairie grass.</div> -<div class="verse">Behind him steps a slender clerk</div> -<div class="verse">Tendering his sprightly stridency</div> -<div class="verse">To the stolid, doll-like girl beside him.</div> -<div class="verse">At his side a heavy youth</div> -<div class="verse">Dully stands beneath his swaggering mask;</div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> -<div class="verse">And a smiling man in black and white</div> -<div class="verse">Walks, like some Pierrot grown middle-aged.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Mutely twinkling fragments of a romance:</div> -<div class="verse">Tiny lights stand over this cabaret.</div> -<div class="verse">Men and women jovially emboldened</div> -<div class="verse">Stroll beneath the curtained entrance,</div> -<div class="verse">And their laughs, like softly brazen cow-bells,</div> -<div class="verse">Change the scene to a strange Pastoral.</div> -<div class="verse">Hectic shepherdesses drunk with night,</div> -<div class="verse">Women mingle their coquettish colours....</div> -<div class="verse">Suddenly, a man leaps out</div> -<div class="verse">From the doorway’s blazing pallor,</div> -<div class="verse">Smashing into the drab sidewalk.</div> -<div class="verse">His drunken lips and eyelids break apart</div> -<div class="verse">Like a clown in sudden suicide.</div> -<div class="verse">Then the mottled nakedness</div> -<div class="verse">Of the scene comes, like a blow.</div> -</div> -<div class="stanza"> -<div class="verse">Stoically crushed in hovering grey</div> -<div class="verse">Night lies coldly on this street.</div> -<div class="verse">Momentary sounds crash into night</div> -<div class="verse">Like ghostly curses stifled in their birth....</div> -<div class="verse">And over all the blankly box-like buildings</div> -<div class="verse">Raise their sodden architecture</div> -<div class="verse">Into the poised lyric of the sky.</div> -</div></div></div> - -<hr class="chap" /> - -<div class="transnote"> - -<p class="ph3">TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES:</p> - - -<p>The cover image for this eBook was created by the transcriber and is entered into the public domain.</p> - -<p>Inconsistencies in hyphenation have been retained.</p></div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Advice, by Mawell Bodenheim - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVICE *** - -***** This file should be named 60252-h.htm or 60252-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/6/0/2/5/60252/ - -Produced by Tim Lindell, David E. 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