#WelshWriters
When I was a windy boy and a bit And the black spit of the chapel f… (Sighed the old ram rod, dying of… I tiptoed shy in the gooseberry wo… The rude owl cried like a tell-tal…
Altarwise by owl-light in the half… The gentleman lay graveward with h… Abaddon in the hangnail cracked fr… And, from his fork, a dog among th… The atlas-eater with a jaw for new…
When I woke, the town spoke. Birds and clocks and cross bells Dinned aside the coiling crowd, The reptile profligates in a flame… Spoilers and pokers of sleep,
My hero bares his nerves along my… That rules form wrist to shoulder, Unpacks the head that, like a slee… Leans on my mortal ruler, The proud spine spurning turn and…
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
How soon the servant sun, (Sir morrow mark), Can time unriddle, and the cupboar… (Fog has a bone He’ll trumpet into meat),
Once below a time, When my pinned-around-the-spirit Cut-to-measure flesh bit, Suit for a serial sum On the first of each hardship,
Never until the mankind making Bird beast and flower Fathering and all humbling darknes… Tells with silence the last light… And the still hour
The seed-at-zero shall not storm That town of ghosts, the trodden w… With her rampart to his tapping, No god-in-hero tumble down Like a tower on the town
In the mustardseed sun, By full tilt river and switchback… Where the cormorants scud, In his house on stilts high among… And palavers of birds
When once the twilight locks no lo… Locked in the long worm of my fing… Nor damned the sea that sped about… The mouth of time sucked, like a s… The milky acid on each hinge,
O Out of a bed of love When that immortal hospital made o… The curless counted body, And ruin and his causes
Should lanterns shine, the holy fa… Caught in an octagon of unaccustom… Would wither up, and any boy of lo… Look twice before he fell from gra… The features in their private dark
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,
To-day, this insect, and the world… Now that my symbols have outelbowe… Time at the city spectacles, and h… The dear, daft time I take to nud… In trust and tale I have divided…