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More poems by Gregory CorsoGregory Corso | Print this page.Print | View and Write CommentsComments | Books by Gregory CorsoBooks by Gregory Corso

I Held A Shelley Manuscript

Gregory Corso

My hands did numb to beauty
as they reached into Death and tightened!

O sovereign was my touch
upon the tan-inks's fragile page!

Quickly, my eyes moved quickly,
sought for smell for dust for lace
for dry hair!

I would have taken the page
breathing in the crime!
For no evidence have I wrung from dreams--
yet what triumph is there in private credence?

Often, in some steep ancestral book,
when I find myself entangled with leopard-apples
and torched-skin mushrooms,
my cypressean skein outreaches the recorded age
and I, as though tipping a pitcher of milk,
pour secrecy upon the dying page.

Added: 19 Aug 2001 | Last Read: 20 Jun 2018 9:00 PM | Viewed: 5334 times

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URL: http://plagiarist.com/poetry/238/ | Viewed on 20 June 2018.
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