by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | LO, RO
Nearly in November About a year has passed The autumn comes Again as surely as it would if we Had never met The death of leaves benumbs The trees and yet becomes Effacingly They do become a fire of leaves no...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | SH
White Trees on Oxford Street White trees in front of Debenhams’ brute gray Are shot through with March sunlight. Their green leaves, Though small, are visible among the splay Of petals that we don’t deserve. Taste grieves As buyers want Swarovski din. They’re...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | BR
Brevity is not the Soul of Death The coach goes whizzing by and briefly swan And blackthorn come in frame upon, beside The springtime silver of the Thames. Soon gone, They all are gone. Yet, if we took the wide View, saw them longer in our time, they still (Not...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | WH
The Cover Version of Myself I love the cover version of myself. In it my flaws become, like, cosmic laws. I am affirmed. I’m magic as an elf Backlit with Rudolph’s nose, and Lassie’s paws Reach up in scrabbling worship to my chest. She licks my face, slavishly. ...
by phillipw | Dec 17, 2019 | EN
The Pyramid of Cheops “And God said, Let there be light.” The pyramid of Cheops thinks it’s still. In one sense that is true. It is still there, But not completely. Just like any hill It rose and it is crumbling. Wear and tear Attack the...
