About this Journal
Current Month
If words are your weapon, my dear, I surrender.

All starbright and tongue-tied I took her in, and how she loved me.

There will be time to murder and create, And time yet for a hundred indecisions, And for a hundred visions and revisions.

I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each. I do not think that they will sing to me.

We have lingered in the chambers of the sea By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown Till human voices wake us, and we drown.

And the sign said: "The words of the prophets Are written on the subway walls And tenement halls, And whispered in the sound of silence."