| Harriet Monroe, ed. (1860–1936). Poetry: A Magazine of Verse. 1912–22. | | | | Night | | By Emanuel Carnevali |
| | From “The Day of Summer”
TAKE me all, | |
| Woman whom I know so well, every wrinkle of you—my room— | |
| We won’t fight any more. | |
| I have been around, and I have seen the wisdom of you | |
| In the city. | 5 |
| Lay me down over the torn bedspread, let the bed-bugs keep me company— | |
| Don’t be a prude, old lady: | |
| Your wounds are disgusting enough, | |
| But in the city only the syphilis blooms | |
| And all the other | 10 |
| Flowers are dead. | |
| I will let you reach out with your smell into me. | |
| Literature, eh?— | |
| Blossoms of beggary, morning breath of the sick, dreams of the dead! | |
| And I, | 15 |
| Devising sun-spangling images …. at night, on your table!— | |
| With the urge from the soiled-linen box! | |
| Tonight the lie got drunk with sarcasm | |
| And croaked, | |
| Having found nowhere in the city | 20 |
| Self-assertion. | |
| Put me to sleep, | |
| Knock me to sleep; | |
| Or keep me awake and keep a gnaw in my heart working, | |
| If so you please. | 25 |
| |
| Outside a greasy moon | |
| Refuses to understand | |
| How ridiculous her unesthetic weeping is. | |
| |
| If I kill myself…. | |
| She may…. | 30 |
| If I kill myself…. | |
| He may…. | |
| Would they……..? | |
| |
| What would you want, O Death, | |
| Face-of-character, | 35 |
| With a faceless man like me! | |
| Without you, Death, | |
| I am dead. | |
| |
| So I’m going out. | |
| There must be a comfortable little place | 40 |
| For me in the world— | |
| Now I’m dead enough— | |
| I picked it out reading the Evening Journal Sermon on Success. | |
| To hell with books—I’ll give my young body a chance, | |
| Before my head gets bald. | 45 |
| |
| I will walk with the marionettes | |
| Now I’m dislocated enough and my mouth is clogged. | |
| I’ll go talk to them | |
| Now I’m dumb enough. | |
| But come and see me…. | 50 |
| |
| Oh, do come and see me, | |
| Look down upon me from your place in the sky, | |
| O MY HIGH DREAM! | |
| |
| I have a brain for everything, | |
| I shall dance their ragtime. | 55 |
| Will someone whisper, sometime— | |
| “There is a man who dances | |
| With a strange embarrassment?” | | | | |
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