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I have wished you something None of the others would....

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The Old FoolsWhat do they think has happened, the old fools,To make them like this ? Do they somehow supposeIt's more grown-up when your mouth hangs o...more

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I think that at the bottom of all art lies the impulse to preserve.

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Caught in the center of a soundless fieldWhile hot inexplicable hours go byWhat trap is this? Where were its teeth concealed?You seem to ask.I make a ...more

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Poetry is an affair of sanity, of seeing things as they are.

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Sexual intercourse began in nineteen sixty-three (Which was rather late for me) between the end of the Chatterley ban and the Beatles' first LP.

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Poetry is nobody’s business except the poet’s, and everybody else can fuck off.

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Only in books the flat and final happens, Only in dreams we meet and interlock....

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Much better stay in company!To love you must have someone else,Giving requires a legatee,Good neighbours need whole parishfulsOf folk to do it on - in...more

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So many things I had thought forgottenReturn to my mind with stranger pain:Like letters that arrive addressed to someoneWho left the house so many yea...more

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What are days for?Days are where we live. They come, they wake us Time and time over.They are to be happy in: Where can we live but days?Ah, solving t...more

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When I was a child, I thought,Casually, that solitudeNever needed to be sought.Something everybody had,Like nakedness, it lay at hand,Not specially ri...more

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Rather than words comes the thought of high windows:The sun-comprehending glass,And beyond it, the deep blue air, that showsNothing, and is nowhere, a...more

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Man hands on misery to man. It deepens like a coastal shelf. Get out as early as you can, And don't have any kids yourself.

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When I throw back my head and howlPeople (women mostly) sayBut you've always done what you want, You always get your way- A perfectly vile and foulInv...more