Maxwell Bodenheim After Feeling Deux Arabesques by DebussyI stuffed my ears with faded stars From the little universe of music pent in me, For your fiendish ripple must be heard but once: Passing twice through ears, it looses Its thin divine kinkiness.... I felt it undulate my soul— Lavender water, pitted and heaved to huge, uneasy circles. Let Me Not Live Too LongNever will my crumbling tongue hug the drying sides of the basin, Slaying the last, delicate drops. Fire have I tasted; It has flicked me but never burnt— I shall leave it before it breaks into me. One flame will I wrap about my browned skin—a deed accomplished— To speak to me on the way. Then will I go quickly, lest the other fire-beings scorch my slow feet. To the Violinist(Mr. Bodenheim writes of the violinist described in our last issue.) Pits a trillion times blacker than black, Fringed with little black grasses, each holding The jerking, smoldering ghost of a thought. (O deep-aged pupils and lashes!) At the bottom of the pits lay the phosphorescent bones, Of many souls that have cried and died. I think you clutched one of your soul-bones with irreverent hands, And struck your cringing violin. |