Short Poems

The nightingale and, at the gate,
The uuexpected bean-curd vendor.

One sobbing wave, above her fellows blest,
His feet caressed:
One homeless heart—the lone, unbidden guest—
Her God confessed.

The harvest shall flourish in wintry weather
When two virginities meet together

The King & the Priest must be tied in a tether
Before two virgins can meet together

His clothes, his elegance, his ease,
The silver music of his sneeze,
I cannot make you understand,
I must employ the artist's hand.

They said (when they had dined at Ciro's)
The land would soon be fit for heroes;
And now they've managed to ensure it,
For only heroes could endure it.

Various the roads of life; in one
All terminate, one lonely way.
We go; and "Is he gone?"
Is all our best friends say.

My girl and I at poker played:
Twelve times she got me down, the jade!
Bankrupt at last I cried: ‘To-morrow
We'll play again, and then I'll borrow
Some new supplies: to-night, my dear,
You've drained my purse quite dry, I fear.’

Love's cruel waves and Riot's boisterous sea
And Passion's restless winds encompass me.
I know not where I go; my storm-tossed soul
Leaves my life's ship without its helm's control.
Perchance like that famed mariner of yore
The Scylla whom I fled will capture me once more.

Stopped to piss—
and missed

The color of the blossoms
must be dyed in that sound—
a warbler's call
lovelier than ever
in spring dawn