Harry Crosby Fire Poems

  • 1.
    I would you were the hollow ship
    fashioned to bear the cargo of my love
    the unrelenting glove
    hurled in defiance at our blackest world
  • 2.
    Venus is sleeping with Fire
    Because it is winter and cold

    With Echo
  • 3.
    You business men with your large desks with your stenographers and your bell-boys and your private telephones I say to you these are the four walls of your cage.
    You are tame as canaries with your small bird-brains where lurks the evil worm you are fat from being over-fed you know not the lean wild sunbirds that arrow down paths of fire.
    I despise you. I am too hard to pity you. I would hang you on the gallows of the Stock Exchange. I would flay you with taxes. I would burn you alive with Wall Street Journals. I wouild condemn you to an endless round of bank banquets. I deride you. I mock at you. I laugh you to scorn.

  • 4.
    A sunfort flourished in my sunless heart
    Beyond the Sun. Here in a tower apart
    The sunbirds of my lady's eyes were caged
  • 5.
    I exchange eyes with the Mad Queen.
    The mirror crashes against my face and bursts into a thousand suns. all over the city flags cracle and bang. Fog horns scream in the harbor. The wind hurricanes through the window. Tornadoes are unmuzzled as I begin to dance the dance of the Kurd Shepherds.
    I stamp upon the floor. I whirl like dervishes. Colors revolve dressing and undressing. I lash them with fury stark white with iron black harsh red with blue marble green with bright orange and only gold remains naked. I roar with joy.
    Black-footed ferrets disappear into holes.
  • 6.
    O ye who claim to be our loyal friends
    Come now and build for us a funeral pyre,
    And lay our emptied bodies on the fire,
    Pray for our souls, murmur your sad amens;
  • 7.
    Mad day flags crackling in the dawn the sharp intensity of drink dentelleries thrown over the mill fire sun and candlelight and at midnight I squeeze the juice of the silver fruit of the moon into the red glass of my heart. I drink to the Sun who lies concealed in his bed under the sheets of night. In the morning he will rise like a Red Indian to run his marathon across the sky.

Total 7 Fire Poems by Harry Crosby

Top 10 most used topics by Harry Crosby

Sun 19 Gold 16 Soul 13 Red 13 Heart 11 World 10 Queen 8 Love 7 I Love You 7 Fire 7

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