Nature is a temple whose living colonnades Breathe forth a mystic speech in fitful sighs; Man wanders among the symbols in those glades Where all things watch him with familiar eyes. Like dwindling echoes gathered far away Into a deep and thronging unison Huge as the night or as the light of day, All scents […]
See how they walk To and from their breaking homes In this twilit town Where naked oaks Sketch the streets And a swirling of crows Settles in clumps On the high limbs Above the old folks home, Cataracts in its vacant eyes. One girl, collar to the cold Hurries home Under sudden streetlights Ushered now
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Annabel Lee It was many and many a year ago, In a kingdom by the sea, That a maiden there lived whom you may know By the name of Annabel Lee; And this maiden she lived with no other thought Than to love and be loved by me. I was a child and she was a
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If you stare at a doorway long enough Someone might appear Who is not just passing through In the shuffle of it all But who means to be there Or who was sent And has a reason to stare Back at you Or beyond you Or straight through you. Filling void with vacancy This stranger
You left your mark like a prehistoric cave drawing. Unseen, undiscovered, permanent. A message understood only by the one who created it. You created a masterpiece. Beaten, bruised, bleeding, inanimate. To you. Leaving nothing to remember you by but a stain, faded, never gone. Violence the medium that stenciled you onto me so cruelly. Memories
All the walls are windows, but opaque From all the years they’ve been here, all the dust, So up on the top steel girders I can hardly Detect the twitching tail of a Norway rat, The last of my certainties surviving still, Feeding on a few brave mice perhaps. The rest is just the universal