Oxford
Years on the Gothic rack : Bells crashing down on green water, Lashing the tree trunks for growing The meadows for lying flat. And the flushed girls laughing At calf love.......
My Naked Room
My naked room, one plate on the strewn desk. One chair, one hairbrush, soapflakes on the bed. Three desperate postcards on the naked wall. Looks back at my sad eyes, and speaks......
Convalescent
Tissue round a void, I pace Sunshiny pavements, watching shadows sprout From each foot, marvelling bow a vacant head Can plop a blob of darkness on a stone. But there......
Five Poems
Old Short Word It struck two o'clock, her eyes met mine, fire from a gun. 'I'm sorry,' she said; 'it's a case of the old short word.' The weather was preparing to change. 'Is......
To A Timid Old Roisterer
Slip gently out into the wintry night, Last bitter night, too harsh, too cold For shivering flesh, too dark when dying light Has puffed the candle out. You have been bold To......
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