Poems by Maxwell Bodenheim

Mark of your voice, a dawn
Dropping little gestures upon my forehead,
While slumber-edged tho...

DEATH,
Grandiosely hackneyed subject,
I live in a house one hundred years old
Placed in the ...

A mood whose heart was a flagon of ashes,
Met another mood whose lips were stained
With the od...

The mellow anger of his hair
Disputes his sleepy girl's face.
His robe glows like a painted wou...

Moonlight bends over the black silence,
Making it bloom to wild-flowers of sound
That only gre...

I lose all sense of profiles,
Strolling through your greys and blacks and browns!
No man besto...

MAIDEN
My heart is a slovenly russet peasant-girl
Flirting with staidly immaculate swains. &nbs...

The loose eyes of an old man
Shone aloof upon his boyish face;
And a sluggish innocence
Hugge...

Certain favorite words of men have gathered in a vale made of sound-waves. These words, far remo...

In me is a little painted square
Bordered by old shops, with gaudy awnings.
And before the sho...

Pain is a country cousin of yours.
He flings buds of awakening desires
Upon the stately wedding...

They have made me an airy apology
for the crude insistence of their flesh!
They have made me tw...

An old silver church in a forest
Is my love for you
The trees around it
Are words that I have ...

The dust of many roads has been my grey wine.
Surprised beech-trees have bowed
With me, to the...

I You were in the room, yet your body
Was stone cut in drooping lines
And hued with decorous ...