Paris Journal (James Douglas Morrison Poems)
So much forgotten alreadySo much forgottenSo much to forgetOnce the idea of purityborn, all was lostirrevocablyThe Black Musicianin a house ...
So much forgotten alreadySo much forgottenSo much to forgetOnce the idea of purityborn, all was lostirrevocablyThe Black Musicianin a house ...
Your love taught me to grieveand I have been in need, for centuriesa woman to make me grievefor a woman, ...
It is night-time when the saddest and the darkest memories haunt,When outside the printing office the most glaring posters flaunt,When ...
Batholomew Benjamin BuntingHad only three passions in life,And one of the trio was hunting,The others his babe and his wife.And ...
Of coursethose who are standing at the top of the stairsknowthey know everythingwith us it's differentsweepers of squareshostages of a ...
The cop holds me up like a fish;he feels the huge bonessurrounding my eyes,and he runs a thumb under them,lifting ...
The world is covered with cradlesthat sing in the night.Man lives accumulating blocks of stonefor the houses of the future ...
Cold nights outside the taverns in Wyomingpickups and big semis lounge idling, letting theirhaunches twitch now and then in gusts ...
First, London, for its myriads; for its height, Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite; But Paris for the smoothness of the ...
I Tonite I walked out of my red apartment door on East tenth street's dusk- Walked out of my home ...
It's my lunch hour, so I gofor a walk among the hum-coloredcabs. First, down the sidewalkwhere laborers feed their dirtyglistening ...
Those groans men use passing a woman on the street or on the steps of the subway to tell her ...
I In the depths of the Greyhound Terminal sitting dumbly on a baggage truck looking at the sky waiting for ...
A house of princesses greeted our three on the return from the church, the pageant practice a lost memory as ...
WITNESS FOR TROUT FISHING IN AMERICA PEACE In San Francisco around Easter time last year, they had a trout fishing ...
There were still shards of an ancient pastoral in those shires of the island where the cattle drank their pools ...
First, London, for its myriads; for its height, Manhattan heaped in towering stalagmite; But Paris for the smoothness of the ...
Moko, the Educated Ape is here, The pet of vaudeville, so the posters say, And every night the gaping people ...
That some day, emerging at last from the terrifying vision I may burst into jubilant praise to assenting angels! That ...
Oh! the circus swooped down On the Narrabri town, For the Narrabri populace moneyed are; And the showman he smiled ...
My most respected comrades of posterity! Rummaging among these days' petrified crap, exploring the twilight of our times, you, possibly, ...
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