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Nick and the CandlestickI am a miner. The light burns blue. Waxy stalactitesDrip and thicken, tearsThe earthen wombExudes from its dead boredom. Black...more

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The still watersWrap my lips,Eyes, nose and ears,A clearCellophane I cannot crack.

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The moon is no door. It is a face in its own right,White as a knuckle and terribly upset.It drags the sea after it like a dark crime; it is quietWith ...more

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Is it the sea you hear in me,Its dissatisfactions?Or the voice of nothing, that was you madness?

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Its snaky acids kiss.It petrifies the will. These are the isolate, slow faults That kill, that kill, that kill.

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LADY LAZARUSI have done it again.One year in every tenI manage it--A sort of walking miracle, my skinBright as a Nazi lampshade,My right footA paperwe...more

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Stasis in darkness.Then the substanceless blue

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The blood jet is poetryThere is no stopping it.

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Love is a shadow. How you lie and cry after it

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I am inhabited by a cry. Nightly it flaps outLooking, with its hooks, for something to love.

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I am terrified by this dark thingThat sleeps in me;All day I feel its soft, feathery turnings, its malignity.

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Stars open among the lilies.Are you not blinded by such expressionless sirens?This is the silence of astounded souls.

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O love, how did you get here?--Nick and the Candlestick

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I also had a dim idea that if I walked the streets of New York by myself all night something of the city's mystery and magnificence might rub off on m...more

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I?I walk alone;The midnight streetSpins itself from under my feet;My eyes shutThese dreaming houses all snuff out;Through a whim of mineOver gables th...more