This poem is taken from PN Review 237, Volume 44 Number 1, September - October 2017.
A Smaller Variety of Wales
1
The sun is a counter of coal
cut thin, laid out,
and wet with light.
2
A fish with slate eyes
waits against cold water,
swimming to be still.
3
Brother Thomas
hunkers in heavy thought:
a bald hill wrapped in pines.
4
Howel Rees
lies in the
dead grey stones,
broken with no pain
by the blunt heads
of bursting bulbs.
5
The Giant sits
on his crater.
His arse is wet.
Big head in the rain.
He watches me pedal by,
...
The sun is a counter of coal
cut thin, laid out,
and wet with light.
2
A fish with slate eyes
waits against cold water,
swimming to be still.
3
Brother Thomas
hunkers in heavy thought:
a bald hill wrapped in pines.
4
Howel Rees
lies in the
dead grey stones,
broken with no pain
by the blunt heads
of bursting bulbs.
5
The Giant sits
on his crater.
His arse is wet.
Big head in the rain.
He watches me pedal by,
...
The page you have requested is restricted to subscribers only. Please enter your username and password and click on 'Continue':
If you have forgotten your username and password, please enter the email address you used when you joined. Your login details will then be emailed to the address specified.
If you are not a subscriber and would like to enjoy the 288 issues containing over 11,600 poems, articles, reports, interviews and reviews,
why not subscribe to the website today?