We sat in the belly of the aeroplaneand held out for sirens to swerve across the grass;men with cutting gear and masks. No-one came.On a back seat, Mr. Phillips bandied jokes to pass
His name has been ghosted over the fence,leaving an alias, burn, prison clothes. I'm half the man, he says, not my sentence,waiting on time that other people chose.
I saw Len Hutton in his prime
Jill. Fred phoned. He can't make tonight.He said he'd call again, as soon as poss.I said (on your behalf) OK, no sweat.He said to tell you he was fine,
AIDSknows the condom wrapped penetration of strangers and lovers, deep insideonly a tear away from risk
When music sounds, gone is the earth I know, And all her lovely things even lovelier grow; Her flowers in vision flame, her forest trees Lift burdened branches, stilled with ecstasies.
THIS mood hath known all beauty, for it seesOerwhelmed majestiesIn these pale forms, and kingly crowns of goldOn brows no longer bold,
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