by phillipw | Sep 29, 2019 | BR, KE
Black Flightless Widow “I have not got over it and I never shall.” ~ Fanny Brawne He died and then the girl Fanny soon Keats on his deathbed Fell ill. Her spirit’s heart contrived to take Its toll upon her flesh. A black cocoon...
by phillipw | Sep 18, 2019 | BR
Resignation When hearts accept defeat, they do not make Hurt sounds, not even some hard-swelling beat Beyond the norm. They do not feel a stake Thrust through them, their spasming muscle. Seat Of human feelings, throne of love, the heart...
by phillipw | Sep 8, 2019 | BR
British Library Numbers He looks like somebody’s nephew-in-law, Not any closer to you or yours than That, yet with darkness round the eyes as raw As black eyes on an angel who began In twelve-foundational Heaven but falls now Through wounded space towards Dante’s...
by phillipw | Aug 20, 2019 | BR, CA, DO
New Use for a Hive Tool I cannot recommend an afternoon In bee yards— sun, sweat, stink of carbolic Fumes, not to mention hotness of harpoon Stings, each delivering vitriolic Intensity of hatred, or the stench Of pine needles infilthtrating the air. And then . . . the...
by phillipw | Aug 12, 2019 | BR, CL
He’s Out of Place Here He’s out of place here, looks like he’s a fan Of Manchester United, one who stands Among the other scarf-draped blokes. A man With snub nose, eyebrows thick like black iron bands Is reading here. A sloping forehead, small...
by phillipw | Jul 14, 2019 | BE, BR
Death Defied in the British Library I sit across from Wayne, but decades on And much improved. Not only young again, But cuter nose, and lips more cushion drawn, More velvet-shaped—too lovely, these, to deign To pray or sing a Sabbath verse. The hair Is lovely,...
