And the First shall be Last
WE WANTED WATER AND THE TREES We wanted water and the trees That day by Lake Albano: With liquid green To cool our feet And, to colander the sun, leaves Arching into Lake Albano. It was near noon when we left The road up from Albano, Where silent men Were making cairns Of wood, and took the path which led
Oggi è sabato e questo è il mio pensiero….
Fairground blues Just like the big dipper if you don’t catch me when I’m up you certainly won’t when I’m down And vice versa even more so
A plea for speed in dispatch Look let’s get on with death Time’s running out So let’s not waste it dotting i’s and crossing t’s Once you’ve lived it once what’s the point what is the point So let’s get on with death
Tentative approach by a middle-aged lady to a middle-aged gentleman and his rebuff What a young hand you’ve got Yes the skin’s still young it’s the touch that’s old
Essences Everything is a poem – except the analysis of one, just as anyone is a poet – except he who is sure he is one…
Degrees of goldenness Poetry’s talking to the world in whispers… Dreaming’s writing without words.