Sunday, December 12, 2010

Sunday Poetry: Dylan Thomas

[For Plantsman. Rest In Peace, my brother.]

Twenty Four Years

Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun,
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.

Dylan Thomas


Blogger Hecate said...

Thank you.

4:27 PM  

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