This is the poem I didn't send
that I didn't intend
that didn't end
(and couldn't mend)
the quiet affair that was never quite there.
This is the poem that never was -
my favourite poem of all, because
it would have meant that you were there
sharing the castle we built in the air
for a lost affair that was never quite there.
In the labyrinth that now is me
all rooms are open, you are free
to wander at will, no need for a key
not in our castle high in the air
in the quiet affair that was never quite there.
Alas for intentions. Unwittingly
scattered around - Catastrophe! -
"No Entry" signs - you thought from me...
How could that be, so high in the air?
Sad, the affair that was never quite there.
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
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This post has in a sense been handed to me by two or three responses to my post On not getting it. In the course of discussing how a reade...
Tom Lubbock, writing in The Independent (friday 15 May 2009) returned to the age old topic of censorship in the arts. Well, in painting act...