And as I record
the painters,
the sculpturers
and roots of sin,
those who love me
with spanners or foxgloves,
I pronounce them wife
cherry guard of all their habits.
I bid them jellied giants
in spite of tender looking charms.
The map of flame
yield to saphire pistols,
and bestow the rainbow
on fanged, china wrists...
@Steven Francis poems 2010
Slip the noose of dying and madness for a time and share some observations with Welsh poet Steven Francis in this, his 5th collection of poetry.
No comments:
Post a Comment