Contents -BIBLIOGRAPHIC RECORD

Alfred Kreymborg, ed. Others for 1919. 1920.

Marjorie Allen Seiffert

Love Poems in Autumn

SHINING highways

Sing to your step,

Windows beckon,

Doorways open a square embrace.

Doors laugh gently

Swinging together

Behind you.

There’s a flag on my tower,

And my windows

Are orange to the night.

They are set in grey stone that frowns

At the black wind.

Inside, there’s a guest at my hearth,

And a fire

Painting the grey stone gold.

My windows are black

With the hungry night peering through them.

Blackness lurks in corners,

Wind snatches the sparks,

Tongs and poker jangle together

Like the iron bones

Of a man that was hanged.

The feet of dancers

Shine with laughter,

Their hearts are vibrant as bells;

The air flows by them

Divided, like water

Before a gleaming ship.

Triumphantly their bodies sing,

Their eyes

Are blind with music.

They move through threatening ghosts,

Feeling them cool as mist

Against their brows.

They who dance

Find infinite golden floors

Beneath their feet.

I took Night

Into my arms,

Night lay upon my breast.

If Night had wings

She would have brought me

Stars for my hair.

The stars laughed

Lightly

From far away—

About my shoulders

White mist curled.

Death lies in wait

For those who do not know

What they desire,

And Hell for those who fear

What they have taken.

These hands are wrinkled

From stretching forth,

Brown

From the winds

Blowing upon them.

They are strong with seizing.

They do not tremble.

Let there be dancing figures

On our wine-flask,

Swastikas on our rug,

Inscriptions in our rings

And on our dwelling.

Let us build ritual

For our worship,

Pledge our love

With vows and holy promises.

If we break oaths

Let it be darkly

With threatening gestures.

Thus we ignore

That we love and die

Like insects.

I shall punish your blindness

With a veil.

I shall choose words that join

Gaily, word to word,

I shall weave them flauntingly

Into veil upon veil,

I shall wind them defiantly

Over my lips, over my eyes.

You shall not see your name

On my lips,

You shall not see your image

In my eyes!

And through my veils I shall not see

That you are blind.

I would be free

From two superstitions,

Thanks and Forgiveness.

So I would think of you

As Flame,

As Wind,

As Night,

To whom I have been

Wind,

And Flame,

And Night….

Together burned and swept,

Now drowned

In separate darkness.

I am dazed and weary

From the shapelessness

Of what I am—

I am poured

Among haphazard stones

In meaningless patterns.

Yesterday’s sun dried me

Between rounded cobbles,

Today’s deluge sweeps me

Toward alien pavements,

To-morrow’s sun shall dry me

In a new design.

Better the turbid gutter

Toward the open sea!

November’s breath

Is black in the branches of trees

And under the bushes;

Harsh rain

Whips down the rustling branch

Of leaves.

There is smoke

In the throat of the wind,

Its teeth

Bite away beauty.

Let fools say:

“Spring

Will come again!”