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They pass through my brain and leave not a mark: cities and women and autumnal skies. I am related to […]

O thou pinioned Thought, where wilt thou wing me to-night? Dug from the marl and silt of my soul, Breath

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