#English
Poetry? It’s a hobby. I run model trains. Mr Shaw there breeds pigeons. It’s not work. You dont sweat. Nobody pays for it.
Brag, sweet tenor bull, descant on Rawthey’s madrigal, each pebble its part for the fells’ late spring. Dance tiptoe, bull,
Four white heifers with sprawling… trundle the waggon. Its ill-roped crates heavy with fr… The chisel point of the goad, blue… glitters ahead,
See! Their verses are laid as mosaic gold to gold gold to lapis lazuli white marble to porphyry stone shouldering stone, the dice
Lavender and contorted Only and lavender Outrageous and very This flipper may back and beckon, but it
Boasts time mocks cumber Rome. Wr… set up his own monument. Others watch fells dwindle, think the sun’s fires sink. Stones indeed sift to sand, oak
A strong song tows us, long earsick. Blind, we follow rain slant, spray flick to fields we do not know.
(Kamo-no-Chomei, born at Kamo 115… Swirl sleeping in the waterfall! On motionless pools scum appearing disappearing! Eaves formal on the zenith,
Guarda mi disse, le feroce Erine Let us come upon him first as if i… anonymous triple presence, memory made substance and tally of… then in the waking Now be demonstr…
He whom we anatomized ‘whose words we gathered as pleasa… and thought on his wit and how nea… speaks to us, hatching marrow,
There are the Alps. What is there… They don’t make sense. Fatal glac… jumbled boulder and weed, pasture… et l’on entend, maybe, le refrain… Who knows what the ice will have s…
Nothing substance utters or time stills and restrains joins design and supple measure deftly