Life and Existence

O plunge your hands in water, Plunge them in up to the wrist; Stare, stare in the basin And wonder what you’ve missed. The glacier knocks in the cupboard, The desert sighs in the bed, And the crack in the tea cup opens A lane to the land of the dead.

Lay your sleeping head, my love, Human on my faithless arm.

The greater the love, the more false to its object, Not to be born is the best for man; After the kiss comes the impulse to throttle, Break the embraces, dance while you can.

The stars are dead. The animals will not look. We are left alone with our day, and the time is short, and History to the defeated May say Alas but cannot help or pardon.

The stars are dead. The animals will not look. We are left alone with our day, and the time is short, and History to the defeated May say Alas but cannot help or pardon.

Harrow the house of the dead; look shining at New styles of architecture, a change of heart.

Harrow the house of the dead; look shining at New styles of architecture, a change of heart.

Patrick Maguire, the old peasant, can neither be damned nor glorified: The graveyard in which he will lie will be just a deep-drilled potato-field Where the seed gets no chance to come through To the fun of the sun. The tongue in his mouth is the root of a yew.

Patrick Maguire, the old peasant, can neither be damned nor glorified: The graveyard in which he will lie will be just a deep-drilled potato-field Where the seed gets no chance to come through To the fun of the sun. The tongue in his mouth is the root of a yew.

Let us honor if we can The vertical man Though we value none But the horizontal one.

The longest journey Is the journey inwards Of him who has chosen his destiny.

The longest journey Is the journey inwards Of him who has chosen his destiny.

there are so many people dead and so many sea-walls that the red sun used to split, and so many heads that the boats hit, and so many hands that have closed around kisses, and so many things I would like to forget.

O my floating life Do not save love to the flood

Nobody, nothing than time which if intense

I was much too far out all my life And not waving but drowning.

Here lies my past. Good-bye I have kissed it; Thank you, kids. I wouldn’t have missed it.

How confusing the beams from memory’s lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?

How confusing the beams from memory’s lamp are; One day a bachelor, the next a grampa. What is the secret of the trick? How did I get so old so quick?

Listen, Christ, You did alright in your day, I reckon— But that day’s gone now. They ghosted you up a swell story, too, Called it Bible— But it’s dead now.

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

In the middle of the road there was a stone there was a stone in the middle of the road there was a stone in the middle of the road there was a stone.

At five in the afternoon. Ah, that fatal five in the afternoon! It was five by all the clocks! It was five in the shade of the afternoon!

I will not see it! Tell the moon to come for I do not want to see the blood of Ignacio on the sand.