Malcolm Lowry

RILKE AND YEATS   Help me to write. Show me the gates Where the orders are, And the cage My soul stares at, Where my courage Roars through the grates.      JOSEPH CONRAD   This wrestling, as of seamen with a storm Which flies to leeward —while they, united In that chaos, turn, each of his nighted Bunk, to dream of chaos again, or home— The poet himself, struggling with the form Of his coiled work, knows; having requited Sea-weariness with purpose, invited What derricks of the soul...