Anthony Weir Poems

What can one say about the treasons of hope?
(We are destruction and the noise of destruction.)
(Men demand saviours, while women just cope.)
...

Here in the graveyard
the rotting corpses lie.
...

To wear no clothes
To be illiterate
...

Love
is Soup Dream
Life
is Dream Soup;
...

After three half-hearted, vain abortion efforts came
...

The Northern Lights:
the old dog shakes himself.
...

The forest's lovely, dark and deep,
But I, unlovely human, have pale and
shallow promises to keep
to well-kept humans.
...

What do I care in the cold winds and languor of spring
That my face and my frame are not I?
They are just furniture, but my poems are what I feel,
I am a vacuum, they are a cry.
...

Compassion is flame
and the ashes of the fire.
Compassion is crossed fingers behind your back
as your shoulders hunch like a crone's.
...

(for Dr Robert M Sapolsky, vivisector)

The baboon
Desperately holding the pig's heart
...