#Irish #Women
The foreman's head slowly circling... White rims under yellow disks of eyes.... Gold hairs
We are old, Old as song. Before Rome was Or Cyrene. Mad nights knew us
I see you, refulgent ones, Burning so steadily Like big white arc lights... There are so many of you. I like to watch you weaving—
I remember The crackle of the palm trees Over the mooned white roofs of the… The shining town’¦ And the tender fumbling of the sur…
Old plant of Asia - Mutilated vine Holding earth’s leaping sap In every stem and shoot That lopped off, sprouts again -
They pass through the great iron g… Men with eyes gravely discerning, Skilled to appraise the tunnage of… Or split an inch into thousandths… Men tempered by fire as the ore is
When you tell mama you are going to do something grea… she looks at you as though you were a window she were trying to see through,
Life You have been good to me... You have not made yourself too dea… to juggle with.
Crass rays streaming from the vest… Cafes glittering like jeweled teet… High-flung signs Blinking yellow phosphorescent eye… Girls in black
The ore in the crucible is pungent… It is dusky red, like the ebb of p… And purple, like the blood of elde… Surely it is a strong wine - juice… I am drunk of its fumes.
Mama’s face is smooth and pale as tea-rose lea… That ivory oval of aunt Gem you sucked the miniature off had black black hair like mama.
Snow wraiths circle us Like washers of the dead, Flapping their white wet cloths Impatiently About the grizzled head,
Can you see me, Sasha? I can see you.... A tentacle of the vast dawn is res… that floats as though detached in a sultry and greenish vapor.
When Art goes bounding, lean, Up hill-tops fired green To pluck a rose for life. Life like a broody hen Cluck-clucks him back again.
Bountiful Givers, I look along the years And see the flowers you threw’¦ Anemones And sprigs of gray
