Empty Pocket Deep -R.D. McManes




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THE FIRST BOOKE OF THE FAERIE QVEENE. Contayning THE LEGENDE OF THE KNIGHT OF THE RED CROSSE, OR OF HOLINESSE.

LO I the man, whose Muse whilome did maske, As time her taught, in lowly Shepheards weeds, Am now enforst a far vnfitter taske, For trumpets sterne to chaunge mine Oaten reeds, And sing of Knights and Ladies gentle deeds; Whose prayses hauing slept in silence long, Me, all too meane, the sacred Muse areeds To blazon broad emongst her learned throng: Fierce warres and faithfull loues shall moralize my song. Helpe then, ™ holy Virgin chiefe of nine, Thy weaker Nouice to performe thy will, Lay forth out of thine euerlasting scryne The antique rolles, which there lye hidden still, Of Faerie knights and fairest Tanaquill, Whom that most noble Briton Prince so long Sought through the world, and suffered so much ill, That I must rue his vndeserued wrong: O helpe thou my weake wit, and sharpen my dull tong. And thou most dreaded impe of highest Ioue, Faire Venus sonne, that with thy cruell dart At that good knight so cunningly didst r
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Caurapâñcâśikâ

Swan Song of the Thief       an adaptation of Bilhana’s Caurapâñcâśikâ     by  Dawn Corrigan   1. Still I remember her, the white magnolia of her body, the line of hair down her belly a stamen trembling beneath my hand. I’ve lost that body like a forgotten science.   2. Still I see her light increased by love— below the stars and moon, with face aglow, her body burned as though it might catch fire until I cooled her limbs and she could sleep.   3. And still if she would come to me again with love-smeared eyes and breasts that bent thin shoulders with their weight, I’d drink her mouth— the bee, that connoisseur of nature, at a bud.   4. Still I bring her back, wearied so with love she couldn’t lift her body from the bed, black hair against her cheeks, her guilty arms wound round my neck and left their scent on me.   5. Still I remember glittering eyes that danced in a sleepless face, for she’d stay up all night, to swim lik
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A Prouder Man Than You

A Prouder Man Than You If you fancy that your people came of better stock than mine, If you hint of higher breeding by a word or by a sign, If you're proud because of fortune or the clever things you do -- Then I'll play no second fiddle: I'm a prouder man than you! If you think that your profession has the more gentility, And that you are condescending to be seen along with me; If you notice that I'm shabby while your clothes are spruce and new -- You have only got to hint it: I'm a prouder man than you! If you have a swell companion when you see me on the street, And you think that I'm too common for your toney friend to meet, So that I, in passing closely, fail to come within your view -- Then be blind to me for ever: I'm a prouder man than you! If your character be blameless, if your outward past be clean, While 'tis known my antecedents are not what they should have been, Do not risk contamination, save your name whate'er you do -- `Birds
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