Sharp as an arrow Orpheus
Points his music downward.
Hell is there
At the bottom of the seacliff.
Heal
Nothing by this music.
Eurydice
Is a frigate bird or a rock or some seaweed.
Hail nothing
The infernal
Is a slippering wetness out at the horizon.
Hell is this:
The lack of anything but the eternal to look at
The expansiveness of salt
The lack of any bed but one’s
Music to sleep in.
 
From A Book of Music by Jack Spicer. Forthcoming from The Collected Poetry of Jack Spicer from Wesleyan University Press. Used by permission.

Poems by This Author

A Book Of Music by Jack Spicer
Coming at an end, the lovers
Improvisations On A Sentence By Poe by Jack Spicer
Indefiniteness is an element of the true music
Psychoanalysis: An Elegy by Jack Spicer
What are you thinking about?


Further Reading

Related Poems
Orpheus
by Robert Kelly
Syringa
by John Ashbery
The Poem as Mask
by Muriel Rukeyser
Speedway
by Cedar Sigo
Poems About Hell
The Aeneid, Book VI, [First, the sky and the earth]
by Virgil
A Myth of Devotion
by Louise Glück
A Season in Hell
by Arthur Rimbaud
Canto XIV
by Ezra Pound
Descriptions of Heaven and Hell
by Mark Jarman
Hellish Night
by Arthur Rimbaud
How Can It Be I Am No Longer I
by Lucie Brock-Broido
I Am a Cowboy in the Boat of Ra
by Ishmael Reed
Medusa
by Patricia Smith
Proverbs of Hell
by William Blake
Silence Raving
by Clayton Eshleman
Slim Greer in Hell
by Sterling A. Brown
Song of Devils
by Thomas Shadwell
Strange Meeting
by Wilfred Owen
Styx
by Dana Levin
The Bistro Styx
by Rita Dove
The Dead
by Mina Loy
The Philosophy of Pitchforks
by Sue Owen
The Pomegranate
by Eavan Boland
Worst Things First
by Mark Bibbins