The Listeners - by
‘Is there anybody there?’ said the Traveller,
/ Knocking on the moonlit door;
/ And his horse in…
gothic
The Darkling Thrush - by
At once a voice arose among
The bleak twigs overhead
In a full-hearted evensong
Of joy illimited
Bela Lugosi in Stornoway - by
I was definitely typed, doomed
to be an exponent of evil
grave dust - by
The night I got grave dust on my hands after dusting off my mother’s grave / I was lent a…
‘The Black Belt’ - by
Gruff trams and trains criss-cross and intersect
/ With glittering steel this leprous countryside;
/ Pyramid slagheaps threaten, seamed and specked
/ With smouldering pink: a…
From Macbeth - by
Is this a dagger which I see before me,
/ The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
/ I have thee…
A Dead Man - by
A dead man dead for weeks
/ Is sickening food for lover’s eye
/ That seeks and ever seeks
/ A fair one’s beauty…
Hooge - by
The moon – frozen eye –
/ Stares down stupidly,
/ And the wind licks
/ A few bare sticks,
/ Once trees:
/
/ And near the craters…
Baltic Street - by
/ My dainty lass, lay you the blame
/ Upon the richtfu’ heid;
/ ‘Twas daft ill-luck that bigg’d yer hame
/ …
Demotic Nocturne (Nocturne vulgaire) - by
A breath cleaves operatic breaches in the walls
/ of shimmery, dilapidated marble halls,
/
/ disperses all the boundaries of hearth and home,
/ and blurs…
The Madwoman’s Roof - by
She is history, unable to cast blame on anyone. / She is the skeleton key, the collective curse / on…
The Tomb of Edgar Allan Poe - by
Such as into Himself at last eternity changes him, / the Poet with a naked sword provokes / his century…