Let it be forgotten, as a flower is forgotten, Forgotten as a fire that once was singing gold, Let it…
Bent double, like old beggars under sacks, Knock-kneed, coughing like hags, we cursed through sludge, Till on the haunting flares…
Why do you lie with your legs ungainly huddled, And one arm bent across your sullen, cold, Exhausted face? It…
The spirit is too blunt an instrument to have made this baby. Nothing so unskilful as human passions could have…
I have seen the sun break through to illuminate a small field for a while, and gone my way and…
‘What is the world, O soldiers? It is I: I, this incessant snow, This northern sky; Soldiers, this solitude Through…
When all’s said, and done, if civilisation drowns the last colour to go will be gold – the light on a glass, the prow of a gondola, the name on a rosewood piano as silence engulfs it. And first to return to a waterlogged world, the rivers slipping out to sea, the cities steaming, will be gold, one dip from Bellini’s brush, feathers of angels, Cinquecente nativities, and all that follows. (more…)
In the foreground we see time and life swept in a race toward the left hand side of the picture…
Today I am going to kill something. Anything. I have had enough of being ignored and today I am going…
Little Fly, Thy summer’s play My thoughtless hand Has brushed away. Am not I A fly like thee? Or art…