Why did this sheep die? The legs are thin, stomach hugely bloated. The girl cries and kicks her legs on the sofa. The new marvels of language don't come up from the depths but from the transparent layer, the soiled skin of things. In London for puissant literary reasons he sits with the other lost ones at a Soho striptease show. An endless oyster bar. We'll need miracles of art and reason to raise these years which are tombstones carved out of soap by the world's senators. We'll have to move out at dawn and the dew is only a military metaphor for the generally felt hidden-behind-bushes sorrow. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE CAPTAINS OF THE YEARS by ARTHUR RAYMOND MACDOUGALL JR. LETTER TO MY SISTER by ANNE SPENCER THE DAY-DREAM: THE SLEEPING BEAUTY by ALFRED TENNYSON BY WAY OF EXPLANATION by VIRGINIA A. ALLIN AN AUTUMN NIGHT by JOHANNA AMBROSIUS EMBLEMS OF LOVE: 37. LOVE'S MY POLE-STAR by PHILIP AYRES |