Pythoness body—arching Over the night like an ecstasy— I feel your coils tightening... And the world’s lessening breath.

—Albert Parsons went to his death singing Annie Laurie; didn’t another have a rose in his coat–

Do you remember Honey-melon moon Dripping thick sweet light Where Canal Street saunters off b… And the faint decayed patchouli—

I love those spirits That men stand off and point at, Or shudder and hood up their souls… Those ruined ones, Where Liberty has lodged an hour

I would be a torch unto your hand, A lamp upon your forehead, Labor, In the wild darkness before the D… That I shall never see… We shall advance together, my Bel…

When you tell mama you are going to do something grea… she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through,

I THOUGHT to die that night in… But there was time ... And I lay quietly on the drawn kn… I do not know how long ... I could not count the hours, they…

Snow wraiths circle us Like washers of the dead, Flapping their white wet cloths Impatiently About the grizzled head,

TIME-STONE Hallo, Metropolitan’€” Ubiquitous windows staring all way… Red eye notching the darkness. No use to ogle that slip of a moon…

We are old, Old as song. Before Rome was Or Cyrene. Mad nights knew us

Small towns Crawling out of their green shirts… Tubercular towns Coughing a little in the dawn... And the church...

Undulant rustlings, Of oncoming silk, Rhythmic, incessant, Like the motion of leaves… Fragments of color

I have known only my own shallows… Safe, plumbed places, Where I was wont to preen myself. But for the abyss I wanted a plank beneath

The old men of the world have made… To warm their trembling hands. They poke the young men in. The young men burn like withes. If one run a little way,

Your love was like moonlight turning harsh things to beauty, so that little wry souls reflecting each other obliquely as in cracked mirrors . . .