Category Poem

Crumbling is not an instant’s Act A fundamental pause Dilapidation’s processes Are organized Decays.   ‘Tis first a Cobweb on the Soul A Cuticle of Dust A Borer in the Axis An Elemental Rust—   Ruin is formal—Devil’s work Consecutive…

Crisis is a Hair Toward which the forces creep Past which forces retrograde If it come in sleep   To suspend the Breath Is the most we can Ignorant is it Life or Death Nicely balancing.   Let an instant…

Could—I do more—for Thee— Wert Thou a Bumble Bee— Since for the Queen, have I— Nought but Bouquet?

Could I but ride indefinite As doth the Meadow Bee And visit only where I liked And No one visit me   And flirt all Day with Buttercups And marry whom I may And dwell a little everywhere Or better,…

Conscious am I in my Chamber, Of a shapeless friend— He doth not attest by Posture— Nor Confirm—by Word—   Neither Place—need I present Him— Fitter Courtesy Hospitable intuition Of His Company—   Presence—is His furthest license— Neither He to…

Conjecturing a Climate Of unsuspended Suns— Adds poignancy to Winter— The Shivering Fancy turns   To a fictitious Country To palliate a Cold— Not obviated of Degree— Nor erased—of Latitude—

Come slowly—Eden! Lips unused to Thee— Bashful—sip thy Jessamines— As the fainting Bee—   Reaching late his flower, Round her chamber hums— Counts his nectars— Enters—and is lost in Balms.

Color—Caste—Denomination— These—are Time’s Affair— Death’s diviner Classifying Does not know they are—   As in sleep—All Hue forgotten— Tenets—put behind— Death’s large—Democratic fingers Rub away the Brand—   If Circassian—He is careless— If He put away Chrysalis of Blonde—or Umber—…