Gregory Corso

(26 March 1930 – 17 January 2001 / New York City, New York)

I Held A Shelley Manuscript - Poem by 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.

Comments about I Held A Shelley Manuscript by Gregory Corso

  • Rookie - 39 Points Jetty J Newnham (10/20/2013 7:12:00 AM)

    Corso loved Shelley. He mentioned him in other poems (Report) Reply

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Read poems about / on: hair, beauty, death, dream

Poem Submitted: Monday, January 13, 2003

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