Poems by Ivan Donn Carswell
Colours in lamplight
... scarcely eschewed as wave-length turbulence ...
Congratulations
... Of course, the expedient of sending the Media Tart ...
Consciousness Of Our Return
... caress of movement, gentle, tender, and we part ...
Courage is a motherless lamb
... By and large he was fine if pampered and fed, letting us pass with a desultory ...
Crying to be written
... It is an image I will borrow nonetheless, a symptomatic ...
Days of the slow roll
... I dedicate the art of the slow roll ...
Dead mans clothes
... whereas I was first bequeathed a pair of shorts, a T shirt ...
Dead poet
... of youth, that I will not be not savaged by mortification, ...
Dead thoughts of corpses
... And there they were, already feeding on a feast of vile controversy ...
Do you know who is thinking of you?
... And now you are depressed even when youre sorely blessed ...
Does the name toll a bell?
... who wrote them into the sacred book a mere century after the great event, ...
Does your semen smell like camembert?
... Now if you lover says your semen smells like fragrant grass ...
Dont talk to me of War
... In that year we ran a cracking chase, a course of tally ho ...
Dreams of a lifetime
... never quite undecided about anything that mattered, ...
Dreams of better days
... our fancies grew and took to flight, soared and wheeled ...
