Anthony Weir Poems

I dreamed.
I woke in tenderness.
I dreamed of tenderness
as a ripe plum squirting
...

In the Beginning
God burst like a Balloon
Showering the World
With dirty shreds
...

At the Conference of
Poetry Police
An observer who claimed
That a tree was worth
...

The animal garden
Is now a murder-hole.
Language was always the Labyrinth.
Civilisation is striving, spurning
...

Man in a shower.
His only reality
the removal of reality.
...

December snow falling
tells me to stop thinking.
...

Just another little organ
of the Great Conspiracy:
poetry as pathetic part
of the entertainment industry
...

Nature's red in tooth and claw
But we are black of heart.
There's more 'soul' in a jackal's paw
than all our works of art.
...

The greatest achievement is to become
unmentionable to the unspeakable.
'Now' is glimpses of the always
framed by never.
...

My invisible, other true friend, Brother Zoti Lamort,
unknowable, ever-present, everywhere
like a vast four-dimensional carpet,
asks me silently why I have to be human,
...