Cast a cold eye
On life, on death,
Horseman, pass by!
Irish poet William Butler Yeats
June 13, 1865 – January 28, 1939
Horseman, pass by!
Horseman, pass by!
abstracted painting blended
with arcane images
of ancient Egypt
suggesting influences
of the esoteric
and modernism
upon
Yeats
public domain Egyptology image: Internet Archive
painting 2003 S. McCabe
You lie down in whatever bed
you lie down in, the pillow accepting
the weight of your head, the mattress
receiving your body like a longed-for guest.
You move in your sleep and the sheets
react to your turnings, the blankets adjust,
shaping themselves to your outline. The air
in the room keeps time with your breathing,
accepts being displaced while I circle the walls
of the city you dream. My papers
are worn, frayed at the edges; that picture
I have of myself, clouding-over and spotted
with rain: my face is dissolving before me. The night
holds you in sleep, you are stilled by its comforts;
by the fabrics absorbing the sweat you expel.
My cries go unheeded as I stand at the gate
pleading admittance. There is no one to turn to
as you shed a layer of your skin while you lie there,
dead to the world; my one reliable witness.
in the streets beneath the ocean
on her coral chair
the fishes whisper secrets
beneath her seaweed hair
she’s got a tumour in her head
that’s a glowing pearl
she’s a strange strange strange
underwater girl
in the streets beneath the ocean
she combs her seaweed hair
the dolphins bring her children
that have drowned down there
and she makes them coats from sailors’ skin
gives them gold from sailors’ teeth
taken from the sunken ships
wrecked upon the reef
I caught her in a dream one time
or maybe she caught me
took me from my sleeping brain
into the deepest sea
gave me seven kisses
and seven cups of wine
promised me promised me
that she’d be mine
poemimage 