Here's this again:

 Hart Crane

    
 1

  
 Above checkered flickering of late
 coffeehouse generations, light pricks
 tap out a dim, midnight tattoo.

  
 Is it the underbelly of a whale,
 unfurling a turbid Mardi Gras?  Slow
 motion horns dilate for one liquid eye.

  
 Answered by silence.  Orisons
 babble, fitful reeds rehearse,
 recount your rendezvous

  
 with a perfidious bark, while calipers
 compress the extant manuscripts
 (flagrant gulf no hands could span).

  
 It was a weatherbeaten, Southern face
 below the embroidered wash and spume
 whispered the one word –

  
 "follow."  Upward, through vertiginous
 mirror gardens – dangling fluted
 routes of a sunken – forsaken Babylon.

 
 2

 
 Spinning, restless, coaxial, cued
 to firewater, pried from pueblo
 gaol, a primeval kachina leaping
 into the blaze – out of time.

  
 Hidden underfoot, to be quarried
 from the subway, the broken stone
 wheel of a ruptured earth mother
 revolves with disjointed orbit.

  
 Weft of vertigo, carbonized.  Exploded.
 Pronounced from wincing salt, faltering,
 slagged... flower names.  Fertile
 reproof.  Slanting, bedecked at last.

  
 Volcano, livid, fluent, enlists
 the police.  Magnified chevrons.
 Pulques Finos.  Skulls look up,
 fed your tangled battering ram.


     
 3

 
 Ironclad northern city in your nightmare,
 and the sound of the sea, too familiar,
 eager to lock you in a wavy ooze,
 forlorn foghorn... such was Death's only ruse.

  
 Who waits by the pier to feel your taunts
 will always wait now.  You waited once
 for shoulders tensely spare, the tide's advance;
 reposeful strength was gateway – into trance.

  
 The bridge you strung beneath your bones
 still rises, harbored, iridescent, out
 of your twenties and the century's, still
 delicately rides the storm.  And Ariel
 holds his song... and now Atlantis groans! –
 surfacing with your ascending steep descant.