Name

on the ladder which bears my name,
in my retroactive reconception i see
the busy angel descending from heaven
as if by fireman's pole.

Academy

Broken tiles plaster chipped
Above and below decrepid
Age's strength unfractured,
By division in one thousand rooms.

The past a toothless demon calling,
More dangerous in collapse.
It wears a warm humanity,
and sings a siren's song.

A luring too like opium,
making the present more ghostly filled.
its stronger existence makes Here receed,
as past passes present and stays.

The old building chanting god's words wrong,
curling things back to the first day,
blotting out life,
sinking soil in darkness,
talking alone to itself.