Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

Anthony Weir Poems

1. To The Ghost Of Willie Yeats 5/7/2006
2. A Voice From The Mirror 5/7/2006
3. Normality's Unknown 5/7/2006
4. Eight Shorts 5/7/2006
5. Rue Saint-Denis 5/7/2006
6. The Earth-Mother's Lamentation (Newly Translated From The Old Irish) 5/8/2006
7. Gloss On The Ninth Elegy Of Rainer-Maria Rilke 5/8/2006
8. Self-Portrait 5/9/2006
9. The Futility Of Trying To Communicate The Futility Of Communication 4/5/2006
10. Every Moment Is A Moment Of Instruction 4/5/2006
11. Lies Are The Most Acceptable Drug On Earth 5/7/2006
12. A Cold Eye 5/7/2006
13. Lycandrophily 5/7/2006
14. Ever, Ever More Victims 5/9/2006
15. Bone To Bone (Homage To Vasko Popa) 5/10/2006
16. Daily Suicide (After The Albanian Of Bardhyl Londo) 4/7/2006
17. Megalith (Homage To The Macedonian Poet Mateja Matevski) 4/8/2006
18. A La Recherche De Paul Verlaine 4/9/2006
19. Alphabetical 4/11/2006
20. Beauty And Despair 4/20/2006
21. April 2006 (In Memoriam Sarah Teasdale) 4/20/2006
22. Compassion 4/21/2006
23. Erech/Uruk - Iraq 4/23/2006
24. Coda (For Suchoon Mo) 4/24/2006
25. Anti-Poem 4/25/2006
26. Armageddon, After All, Is A Fairly Small Hill 4/29/2006
27. Fishermen 4/30/2006
28. Catastrophe 5/1/2006
29. Sirius 5/2/2006
30. Saturn Reflects 5/2/2006
31. Epiphany: Eochu, Lord Of The Underworld 5/4/2006
32. Paid 5/5/2006
33. 'Blood Is The Belly Of Logic' - In Memoriam Ted Hughes 5/10/2006
34. Portrait Of St.Agatha With Credit-Card, Upon Which Rests One Of Her Amputated, Blue-Veined Breasts 5/12/2006
35. 8/6 5/13/2006
36. The Happy Pessimist 5/14/2006
37. Glosses On Two Poems By The Albanian Poet Petro Marko (1913-91) 5/18/2006
38. For They Are... 5/19/2006
39. Daisies On The Grass 5/20/2006
40. Suicide For Non-Beginners 5/20/2006
Best Poem of Anthony Weir

'The Scent Of These Armpits Is An Aroma Finer Than Prayer' (Walt Whitman)

I dreamed.
I woke in tenderness.
I dreamed of tenderness
as a ripe plum squirting
down my beard – tenderness
that turned to tide
which flowed through both of us
and in which we floated
through our cuddle-space
wherein our snug adhesion
the unseen ballet of our tongues
the breath shared by each other's lungs
were part of an epiphanic lace
of delicate and gorgeous things
that we in sacred, shared
humility presented to each other
as sweet kings –
and the smiling
exuberantly-bearded sun
was his
life-giving face.

Read the full of 'The Scent Of These Armpits Is An Aroma Finer Than Prayer' (Walt Whitman)


I went out to buy contentment
and came home with bulls' testicles.
I went out to buy transcendence
and came back with a mobile phone.

The vileness of money
is that it turns stupidity of desire
into virtue.

I listen to time coughing and watch
the wolf in the Institute being
flayed to the bone.

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