By Dom Moraes I -wake and find myself in love:And this one time I do not doubt.I only fear, and wander outTo hold long parley with a dove. The innocent and the guilty, metHere in the garden, feel no fear.But I’m afraid of you, my dear.There was a reason: I Read more…
By Dom Moraes Ground in the Victorian lock, stiff,With difficulty screwed open,To admit me to the seven mossed stairsAnd the badly kept garden. Who runs to me in memoryThrough flowers destroyed by no love But the child with brown hair and eyes,Smudged all over with toffee? I lick his cheeks. Read more…
By Dom Moraes Smear out the last star.No lights from the islandsOr hills. In the great squareThe prolonged vowel of silenceMakes itself plainly heardRound the ghost of a headlandClouds, leaves, shreds of birdEddy, hindering the wind. No vigils left to keep.No enemies left to slaughter.The rough roofs of the slopes,Loosely Read more…