Warwick poet and musician D.K. Mckenzie presents excerpts from his spoken word and music podcast, The Poe Underground, in a Warwick Radio exclusive.
In this episode, hear original music, the poems Sharaku Dreams by John Gould Fletcher and The Casket of Opals (Tenth Opal) by George Parsons Lathrop, and Hemingway City Nights, a reimagining of Ernest Hemingway’s poetry.
Sharaku Dreams
I will scrawl on the walls of the night
Faces.
Leering, sneering, scowling, threatening faces;
Weeping, twisting, yelling, howling faces;
Faces fixed in a contortion between a scream and a laugh,
Meaningless faces.
I will cover the walls of night
With faces,
Till you do not know
If these faces are but masks, or you the masks for them.
Faces too grotesque for laughter,
Faces too shattered by pain for tears,
Faces of such ugliness
That the ugliness grows beauty.
They will haunt you morning, evening.
Burning, burning, ever returning.
Their own infamy creating,
Till you strike at life and hate it,
Burn your soul up so in hating.
I will scrawl on the walls of the night
Faces,
Pitiless,
Flaring,
Staring.
The Casket of Opals (Tenth Opal)
Colors that tremble and perish,
Atoms that follow the law,
You mirror the truth which we cherish,
You mirror the spirit we saw.
Glow of the daybreak tender,
Flushed with an opaline gleam,
And passionate sunset-splendor—
Ye both but embody a dream.
Visions of cloud-hidden glory
Breaking from sources of light
Mimic the mist of life's story.
Mingled of scarlet and white.
Sunset-clouds iridescent,
Opals, and mists of the day,
Are thrilled alike with the crescent
Delight of a deathless ray
Shot through the hesitant trouble
Of particles floating in space,
And touching each wandering bubble
With tints of a rainbowed grace.
So through the veil of emotion
Trembles the light of the truth;
And so may the light of devotion
Glorify life—age and youth.
Sufferings,—pangs that seem cruel,—
These are but atoms adrift:
The light streams through, and a jewel
Is formed for us, Heaven's own gift!
Hemingway City Nights
Night comes with soft and drowsy plumes to darken out the day
To stroke away the flinty glint
Softening out the clay
Before the final hardness comes
Demanding that we stay
It is cool at night on the roofs of the city
The city sweats
Dripping and stark.
Maggots of life crawl in the hot loneliness of the city.
Love curdles in the city
Love sours in the hot whispering from the pavements
Love grows old
Old with the oldness of sidewalks.
It is cool at night on the roofs of the city
Desire and
All the sweet pulsing aches
And gentle hurtings
That were you,
Are gone into the sullen dark.
Now in the night you come unsmiling
To lie with me
A dull, cold, rigid bayonet
On my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.
At night I lay with you and watched the city whirl and spin about
Through the hot, pounding rhythm of the waltz
You swung and whirled with eager, pagan grace
Two sleepy birds in their wicker cages
And I am dancing with the woman of the town
Cover my eyes with your pinions
Dark bird of night
Spread your black wings like a turkey strutting
Drag your strong wings like a cock grouse drumming with scaly claws
Dip with your beak to my lips
But cover my eyes with your pinions
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Jun 27 202535 m