Warwick poet and musician D.K. Mckenzie presents excerpts from his spoken word and music podcast, The Poe Underground, in a Warwick Radio exclusive.In this episode, hear original music, the poems Sharaku Dreams by John Gould Fletcher and The Casket of Opals (Tenth Opal) by George Parsons Lathrop, and Hemingway City Nights, a reimagining of Ernest Hemingway’s poetry.Sharaku DreamsI will scrawl on the walls of the nightFaces. Leering, sneering, scowling, threatening faces;Weeping, twisting, yelling, howling faces;Faces fixed in a contortion between a scream and a laugh,Meaningless faces.I will cover the walls of nightWith faces,Till you do not knowIf these faces are but masks, or you the masks for them.Faces too grotesque for laughter,Faces too shattered by pain for tears,Faces of such uglinessThat the ugliness grows beauty.They will haunt you morning, evening.Burning, burning, ever returning.Their own infamy creating,Till you strike at life and hate it,Burn your soul up so in hating.I will scrawl on the walls of the nightFaces,Pitiless,Flaring,Staring.The Casket of Opals (Tenth Opal)Colors that tremble and perish,Atoms that follow the law,You mirror the truth which we cherish,You mirror the spirit we saw.Glow of the daybreak tender,Flushed with an opaline gleam,And passionate sunset-splendor—Ye both but embody a dream.Visions of cloud-hidden gloryBreaking from sources of lightMimic the mist of life&#39;s story.Mingled of scarlet and white.Sunset-clouds iridescent,Opals, and mists of the day,Are thrilled alike with the crescentDelight of a deathless rayShot through the hesitant troubleOf particles floating in space,And touching each wandering bubbleWith tints of a rainbowed grace.So through the veil of emotionTrembles the light of the truth;And so may the light of devotionGlorify life—age and youth.Sufferings,—pangs that seem cruel,—These are but atoms adrift:The light streams through, and a jewelIs formed for us, Heaven&#39;s own gift!Hemingway City NightsNight comes with soft and drowsy plumes to darken out the dayTo stroke away the flinty glintSoftening out the clayBefore the final hardness comesDemanding that we stayIt is cool at night on the roofs of the cityThe city sweatsDripping and stark.Maggots of life crawl in the hot loneliness of the city.Love curdles in the cityLove sours in the hot whispering from the pavementsLove grows oldOld with the oldness of sidewalks.It is cool at night on the roofs of the cityDesire andAll the sweet pulsing achesAnd gentle hurtingsThat were you,Are gone into the sullen dark.Now in the night you come unsmilingTo lie with meA dull, cold, rigid bayonetOn my hot-swollen, throbbing soul.At night I lay with you and watched the city whirl and spin aboutThrough the hot, pounding rhythm of the waltzYou swung and whirled with eager, pagan graceTwo sleepy birds in their wicker cagesAnd I am dancing with the woman of the townCover my eyes with your pinionsDark bird of nightSpread your black wings like a turkey struttingDrag your strong wings like a cock grouse drumming with scaly clawsDip with your beak to my lipsBut cover my eyes with your pinionsVisit The Poe Underground <a href="https://thepoeunderground.com/">⁠⁠⁠website⁠⁠⁠</a>.Tune in to The Poe Underground <a href="https://open.spotify.com/show/75Hh9xG32EWQ9wr9zcTVDU">⁠⁠⁠podcast⁠⁠⁠</a>.

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