#WelshWriters
Where once the waters of your face Spun to my screws, your dry ghost… The dead turns up its eye; Where once the mermen through your… Pushed up their hair, the dry wind…
A saint about to fall, The stained flats of heaven hit an… To the kissed kite hems of his sha… On the last street wave praised The unwinding, song by rock,
Then was my neophyte, Child in white blood bent on its k… Under the bell of rocks, Ducked in the twelve, disciple sea… The winder of the water—clocks
Being but men, we walked into the… Afraid, letting our syllables be s… For fear of waking the rooks, For fear of coming Noiselessly into a world of wings…
Sometimes the sky’s too bright, Or has too many clouds or birds, And far away’s too sharp a sun To nourish thinking of him. Why is my hand too blunt
'If my head hurt a hair’s foot Pack back the downed bone. If the… Bump on a spout let the bubbles ju… Sooner drop with the worm of the r… Than bully ill love in the clouted…
Too proud to die; broken and blind… The darkest way, and did not turn… A cold kind man brave in his narro… On that darkest day. Oh, forever… He lie lightly, at last, on the la…
Lie still, sleep becalmed, suffere… In the throat, burning and turning… On the silent sea we have heard th… That came from the wound wrapped i… Under the mile off moon we tremble…
One Christmas was so much like another, in those years around the sea-town corner now and out of all sound except the distant speaking of the voices I sometimes hear a moment before sle...
Our eunuch dreams, all seedless in… Of light and love, the tempers of… Whack their boy’s limbs, And, winding—footed in their shawl… Groom the dark brides, the widows…
A Letter To My Aunt Discussing… To you, my aunt, who would explore The literary Chankley Bore, The paths are hard, for you are no… A literary Hottentot
I fellowed sleep who kissed me in… Let fall the tear of time; the sle… Shifting to light, turned on me li… So, planing—heeled, I flew along… And dropped on dreaming and the up…
Now as I was young and easy under… About the lilting house and happy… The night above the dingle starry, Time let me hail and climb Golden in the heydays of his eyes,
(for Llewelyn) This side of the truth, You may not see, my son, King of your blue eyes In the blinding country of youth,
There once was a Square, such a s… And he loved a trim Triangle; But she was a flirt and around her… Vainly she made him dangle. Oh he wanted to wed and he had no…