Author Archives: Katherine Dolan
Night Piece
Gaunt in gloom The pale stars their torches, Enshrouded, wave. Ghost-fires from heaven’s far verges faint illumine — Arches on soaring arches — Night’s sin-dark nave. . Seraphim The lost hosts awaken To service, till In moonless gloom each lapses, … Continue reading
Tears
I’m crying all the time now. I cried all over the street when I left the Seattle Wobbly Hall. I cried listening to Bach. I cried looking at the happy flowers in my backyard, I cried at the sadness of … Continue reading
Juggler
A ball will bounce; but less and less. It’s not A light-hearted thing, resents its own resilience. Falling is what it loves, and the earth falls So in our hearts from brilliance, Settles and is forgot. It takes a … Continue reading
[Epistle to Mr. Murray]
1 My dear Mr Murray, You’re in a damned hurry To set up this ultimate Canto, [1] But (if they don’t rob us) You’ll see Mr Hobhouse Will bring it safe in his portmanteau. — . … Continue reading
The man who wanted a prayer-mat
‘Once someone asked the Prophet to provide A prayer-mat, and the best of men replied: “The desert’s arid sands are burning now. Pray there; against the hot dust press your brow And feel it sear your flesh; the wounded skin … Continue reading
Inversnaid
This darksome burn, horseback brown, His rollrock highroad roaring down, In coop and in comb the fleece of his foam Flutes and low to the lake falls home. . A windpuff-bonnet of fawn-froth Turns and twindles over the broth Of … Continue reading
Our March
Crash through the squares with a rebel tread. Lift up proudly the crag of your head. We’ll cleanse the towns of the world as they drown in the second flood that our angers spread. The piebald days, they plod. The … Continue reading
When first my eyes did view and mark
When first mine eyes did view and mark Thy fair beauty to behold, And when mine ears listened to hark The pleasant words that thou me told, I would as then I had been free From ears to hear and … Continue reading
This Sixth Molar
This Sixth Molar, molested unmercifully by years’ ravages, abstract it, Dentist, please – first bit of the whole foul heap to go for good. . By Peter Reading
Sonnet On the Death of Richard West
In vain to me the smileing Mornings shine, And redning Phoebus lifts his golden Fire: The Birds in vain their amorous Descant joyn; Or chearful Fields resume their green Attire: These Ears, alas! for other notes repine, A different Object … Continue reading
hissing fragments of stars 