Image result for a fever in painting

You! I want! and want, in hot desire. In lust. And foul greed.

You make me mad with desire. The rest I need.

The rest are food and shelter. Cool water and advice.

The rest are sanity. The rest are extremely nice.

You make my forehead burn. They apply the ice.

The rest notice if there’s a spot on my tie.

You are a tall, crumbling cliff, a step away from the sky.

The rest make me bashful. You make me cry.

The rest make me work, and dull work is what I need

To forget instantaneous pleasure, you, the deed.

Dull work is a guard against the poem,

Against lust. Yes, against you, woman.

My thoughts are in the mines, worked, kept, never to be freed.

I always think of you. You are my goal. My death. You are the rest I need.




  1. Mr. Woo said,

    December 17, 2016 at 10:15 pm


  2. Mr. Woo said,

    December 21, 2016 at 8:33 pm

    Imitation of Graves

    It comes towards us, even as we kiss.

    I’d hoped to keep you ignorant of this,

    But when you took me on that winter trail

    In that dancing wood, where the snow and sunlight fell,

    Before such sad beauty, my tongue was bound to fail.

    Underneath your crumpled hood

    I started sadly, still, I started to tell…

    That was when, miracle!, you slayed the fearful spell

    Of what is coming even as we mortals kiss,

    Whispering—forget all that, we were made for this.

  3. thomasbrady said,

    December 22, 2016 at 12:36 pm


    Impressive. 🙂

    I blush to admit you have captured my style.

    The Raven was parodied immediately and often upon its publication. Imitation really is flattery. Thanks.

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