• A Few Sentences Away

    What a night! My past is very close.
    Dark rag-and-satin April in the city
    Moves its water lily breezes, one by one. My fading letters!
    My café-au-lait sentences that groaned for love and money.... more »

  • Addiction To An Old Mattress

    No, this is not my life, thank God...
    ...worn out like this, and crippled by brain-fag;
    Obsessed first by one person, an then
    (Almost at once) most horribly besotted by another:... more »

  • An Old-Fashioned Traveller On The Trade Routes

    I was sitting upstairs in a bus, cursing the waste of time, and pouring my life away on one of those insane journeys across London - while gradually the wavering motion of this precarious glass salon, that flung us about softly like trusses of wheat or Judo Lords, began its medicinal work inside the magnetic landscape of London.... more »

  • Badly Chosen Lover

    Criminal, you took a great piece of my life,
    And you took it under false pretences,
    That piece of time... more »

  • Black Kief And The Intellectual

    I shall fill up that pit inside me
    With my gloomist thoughts; and then
    Spread myself, prostrate, inert, on top of them.... more »

  • Done For!

    Take care whom you mix with in life, irresponsible one,
    For if you mix with the rong people
    - And you yourself may be one of the wrong people -
    If you make love to the wrong person.... more »

  • Dressing-Gown Olympian

    I insist on vegetating here
    In motheaten granduer. Haven't I plotted
    Like a madman to get here? Well then.... more »

  • Epoch Of The Hotel Corridor

    I understand you, frightful epoch,
    With your jampots, brothls, paranoias,
    And your genius for fear, you can't stop shuddering.
    Discothèques, I drown among your husky, broken sentences.... more »

  • Hydromaniac

    I was leaning across your chest;
    Like a marble-smith, I made pencilmarks over
    Its vanilla skin, its young man's skin,... more »

  • Oath

    I swear that I would not go back
    To pole the glass fishpools where the rough breath lies
    That built the Earth - there, under the heavy trees... more »

  • Orpheus In Soho

    His search is desperate!
    And the little night-shops of the Underworld
    With their kiosks...they know it,
    The little bars as full of dust as a stake cake,
    None of these places would exist without Orpheus
    And how well they know it.... more »

  • Song Of The October Wind

    A mighty air-sea, fierce and very clean
    Was gliding in across the city.
    Oxygenating gusts swept down and
    Chloroformed us, in a light too bright to see by.... more »

  • Story Of A Hotel Room

    Thinking we were safe-insanity!
    We went in to make love. All the same
    Idiots to trust the little hotel bedroom.
    Then in the gloom…... more »

  • The Desert Wind Elite

    I am outside life, and pour the sand
    For my own desert, recklessly.
    But if some flame splashes over from my arab hours
    Into your dismal, shadow-bathing century...... more »

  • The Drinkers Of Coffee

    We talk openly, and exchange souls.
    Power-shocks of understanding knock us off our feet!
    The same double life among the bores and vegetables,... more »

  • The Ice-Cream Room Towns

    Hurry: we must go south to escape
    The bubonic yellow-drink of our old manuscripts,
    You, with your career, toad-winner, I with my intolerance.
    The English seacoast is more oafish than a ham.... more »

  • The Little Cardboard Suitcase

    Events pushed me into this corner;
    I live in a fixed routine,
    With my cardboard attaché case full of rotting books.
    ...If only I could trust my blood! Those damn foreign women... more »

  • The Sash Window

    Outside that house, I stood like a dog;
    The window was mysterious, with its big, dull pane
    Where the mud pastes are thrown by dark, alkaline skies
    That glide slowly along, keeping close to the ground.... more »

  • The Sofas, Fogs, And Cinemas

    I have lived it , and lived it,
    My nervous, luxury civilization,
    My sugar-loving nerves have battered me to pieces.... more »

  • To A Certain Young Man

    I can hear the eros of grey rain, Veganin, and telephones
    Inside your voice.
    His wings, once cut out of Greek frost,
    Are now the tint of an old, polished street.... more »