Poetry

I slept, and out of their ancient tombs of tissue-plasm streamed a shadowy host of Living Dead. Gliding silently across […]

Like sunlight, I touch all things, yet nothing do I gain; I am neither richer nor poorer than I was

Time lies cataleptic in my brain: Eternity alone reigns there. Infinite space has shrunken to a single point of fire,

Out from the brake and stubble of sense I peered for a moment— Wist! was that THEE that passed on

I am at the door of the Closed Room, I stand without, whispering and chatting to myself, in many fantastic

Here in the naked primal night, Here where the VEILED sits graven in silence in ITS garden of weeds, Here

Yonder lies my way. Yea, I have taken the road, and in a sleep, in a cycle, I returned to

It is well thou art hid, O Lord, and sittest with glued lips fast on thy throne beyond the yellow

Who are these shadows about me—my neighbors, my nearest, the jostler whom I felt at my elbow? I—I who have