Max Michelson

Max Michelson was closely associated with Harriet Monroe and Poetry magazine from 1915 to 1921, after which time he was interned in a state mental hospital until his death.

A Hymn to Night

Come, mysterious night; Descend and nestle to us. Descend softly on the houses We built with pride, Without worship. Fold them in your veil, Spill your shadows. Come over our stores and factories, Hide our pride—our shame— With your nebulous wings. ...

By Max Michelson
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27 October

Love Lyric

Stir— Shake off sleep. Your eyes are the soul of clear waters— Pigeons In a city street. Suns now dead Have tucked away of their gold for your hair: My buried mouth still tastes their fires. A tender god built your breasts— Apples of desire; Their whiteness slakes the throat; Their form soothes like honey. Wake up! Or...

By Max Michelson
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03 June

Storm

Storm, Wild one, Take me in your whirl, In your giddy reel, In your shot-like leaps and flights. Hear me call—stop and hear. I know you, blusterer; I know you, wild one— I know your mysterious call. Max Michelson...

By Max Michelson
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01 May