In The Poetry

The Pines of Rome

As ghosts of old legionaries, of the upright
farmers of that unbelievable republic,
the pines entail their roots among the rubble
of baroque and modern Rome.

Out by the catacombs they essay a contradiction,
clattering their chariot-blade branches to deny
the Christian peace, the tourist’s easy frisson,
a long transfiguration.

Look away from Agnes and the bird-blind martyrs,
the sheep of [...]

Wittgenstein’s Dream

I had taken my boat out on the fiord,
I get so dreadfully morose at five,
I went in and put Nature on my hatstand
And considering the Sinking of the Eveninglands
And laughed at what translation may contrive
And worked at mathematics and was bored.

There was fire above, the sun in its descent,
There were letters there whose words [...]

Well, Francis, Where’s the Sun?

They buried him in this complete basilica
But let him roast the Umbrian countryside,
Brother Sun, baked as hard as silica,
With Clare, as clear as conscience, by his side.

But where’s the sun today? Its canticle
Is sung by orphans on a pilgrimage.
The sun’s not in his high conventicle
As Maga bends to wash the feet [...]

Well, Francis, Where’s the Sun?

They buried him in this complete basilica
But let him roast the Umbrian countryside,
Brother Sun, baked as hard as silica,
With Clare, as clear as conscience, by his side.

But where’s the sun today? Its canticle
Is sung by orphans on a pilgrimage.
The sun’s not in his high conventicle
As Maga bends to wash the feet [...]

Reading Midsummer Night’s Dream in Form 4B

Miss Manning rules us middle-class children
Whose fathers can’t afford the better schools
With blue, small, crow-tracked, cruel eyes.
Philomel with melody-a refrain
Summoning the nightingale, the brown bird
Which bruits the Northern Hemisphere with bells -
It could not live a summer in this heat.

Queen Titania, unaware of Oberon,
Is sleeping on a bank. Her [...]

Wittgenstein’s Dream

I had taken my boat out on the fiord,
I get so dreadfully morose at five,
I went in and put Nature on my hatstand
And considering the Sinking of the Eveninglands
And laughed at what translation may contrive
And worked at mathematics and was bored.

There was fire above, the sun in its descent,
There were letters there whose words [...]

The Pines of Rome

As ghosts of old legionaries, of the upright
farmers of that unbelievable republic,
the pines entail their roots among the rubble
of baroque and modern Rome.

Out by the catacombs they essay a contradiction,
clattering their chariot-blade branches to deny
the Christian peace, the tourist’s easy frisson,
a long transfiguration.

Look away from Agnes and the bird-blind martyrs,
the sheep of [...]

Well, Francis, Where’s the Sun?

They buried him in this complete basilica
But let him roast the Umbrian countryside,
Brother Sun, baked as hard as silica,
With Clare, as clear as conscience, by his side.

But where’s the sun today? Its canticle
Is sung by orphans on a pilgrimage.
The sun’s not in his high conventicle
As Maga bends to wash the feet [...]

Reading Midsummer Night’s Dream in Form 4B

Miss Manning rules us middle-class children
Whose fathers can’t afford the better schools
With blue, small, crow-tracked, cruel eyes.
Philomel with melody-a refrain
Summoning the nightingale, the brown bird
Which bruits the Northern Hemisphere with bells -
It could not live a summer in this heat.

Queen Titania, unaware of Oberon,
Is sleeping on a bank. Her [...]