Harry Irene Poems

I'm rich in Vienna, riches are glances
I wish for the nectar, the deluge, to curl me.
Sickness which scampers like a wolf of the steppes
All scanty and singed by maddening lusts.
...

Work's one. what's left is two.
It's been forty days or more,
Since I thought of you
Sitting on the windowsill.
...

If I was to draw the strokes of your cheeks,
Would I feel the same to touch them?
When the mines are in my head,
How do I know if I misstepped?
...

I went down to the tenement store
For some plaster and some glue.
They don't sell that there, never did.
I'll go back again tomorrow.
...

You took to my face. There's an evil in love,
But it beckons my yearning ten pound heart.
With the sea and the sky sewn to my eyes,
You'll swathe and swaddle this rose to her teeth.
...

When dawn breaks,
The exquisite character
Of the moon
Gently subsides.
...

I sat drinking an Irish coffee, hours to spare,
In a street car café on Wenceslas square.
Thought of the king and stoned Stephen
Bringing flesh and wine for a heathen.
...