POEMS
You are injured, ridden, healed, but always gibbeted in dreams
Then sprung; and springing; and wheeled. (The scene
Is of a bird above an ocean stain.) Hunter and hunted,
From window to fountain, you shuttle and scheme
With the shuttle-cocks that know their way between.
Pass by, egyptian, urged and friezed, sew with eyes of thread
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The· ragged fabric: within the images of eyes the cloth is patched;
Beneath the eyes the hands do rend. Roses in the bed
Were flesh; voices in the square were not: The word was deed
But now is dead. The dog
is
here and you are watched.
Maid and midden, Engineer of the city near Azusa.
Man and manned, Bombardier of the fountain in the Plaza.
SUNT LACRIMAE RERUM ET MENTUM
MORTALIA TANGUNT
HARVEY BREIT
Across the huddled lamplight window glass
is black, ashine with that last, blacker mass,
the drifting shadow of arrested wings.
Here
is
the empty chair, and here, alas!
the awaited time, when time seems most to pass.
We are, in midmost ground, our own dead kings:
Because
in
dark are bred the tears of things
that frost the heart, cold dew on prostrate grass,
new psyche gathers gooseflesh in, and sings,
in its dark corners, its wild waste winnowings.
COMMUNIQUES FROM YALTA
Not heart, not soul and not their joined intent,
not these alone, but the whole process, breaking;
these are not salvo sounds, but fire raking
all hope, all memory, all undertaking.
