Medusa
I had come to the house, in a cave of trees, Facing a sheer sky. Everything moved, — a bell hung ready to strike, Sun and reflection wheeled by. When the bare eyes were before me And the hissing hair, Held up at a window, seen through a door. The stiff bald eyes, the serpents on the forehead Formed in the air. This is a dead scene forever now. Nothing will ever stir. The end will never brighten it more than this, Nor the rain blur. The water will always fall, and will not fall, And the tipped bell make no sound. The grass will always be growing for hay Deep on the ground. And I shall stand here like a shadow Under the great balanced day, My eyes on the yellow dust, that was lifting in the wind, And does not drift away.
Louise Bogan
Other author posts
Juans Song
When beauty breaks and falls asunderI feel no grief for it, but wonder When love, like a frail shell, lies broken, I keep no chip of it for token I never had a man for
Words For Departure
Nothing was remembered, nothing forgotten When we awoke, wagons were passing on the warm summer pavements, The window-sills were wet from rain in the night, Birds scattered and settled over
The Dream
O God, in the dream the terrible horse To paw at the air, and make for me with his blows, Fear kept for thirty-five years poured through his mane, And retribution equally old, or nearly, breathed through his nose
The Alchemist
I burned my life, that I might findA passion wholly of the mind, Thought divorced from eye and bone, Ecstasy come to breath alone I broke my life, to seek
