Patrick White

Rookie (September l5, l948 / Campbell River, British Columbia, Canada)

Patrick White Poems

41. Too Far From Sorrow And Tears 1/23/2012
42. Why Do You Cast Me In The Worst Light 1/23/2012
43. These Words Turn Homeward 1/24/2012
44. Old Gate Off Its Hinge 1/24/2012
45. You Lied To Me Once 1/24/2012
46. And Though It's Dark And Cold Now 1/24/2012
47. Nightbird On A Winter Branch 1/24/2012
48. And The Poems Sit There 1/25/2012
49. There, You See, I Let You Go 1/25/2012
50. Long Ago 1/26/2012
51. Poetry 1/26/2012
52. Lykoeia 1/26/2012
53. You'Re Not Mad Enough 1/26/2012
54. Whether I Languish Here 1/27/2012
55. There's A Bitterness In The Light 1/27/2012
56. Cosmologist With Tweezers 1/27/2012
57. If The Bread Got Any Harder 1/27/2012
58. Making Peace With My Father 1/28/2012
59. First Yellow Leaves On The Black Walnut Trees 1/28/2012
60. Lees 1/28/2012
61. The Brief History Of Now 1/28/2012
62. A Whole Galaxy Lights Up 1/29/2012
63. Mystic Regency 1/29/2012
64. My Lonely Island Music 1/29/2012
65. Ten Hours A Day Painting In The Half Wild Fields 1/29/2012
66. The Stars So Near 1/29/2012
67. What Do We Know? 1/30/2012
68. Tired Of Supplying The Stars 1/30/2012
69. It's Writing Me 1/30/2012
70. If You'Ve Come This Far 1/30/2012
71. Prima Noctis 1/31/2012
72. Bitter 1/31/2012
73. And The Rose 1/31/2012
74. Noise Seeping Into The Silence 1/15/2012
75. The Greater Love Unanswered 1/16/2012
76. Still Life With Clown 1/16/2012
77. Born Below 1/8/2012
78. One Day Your Mouth 1/9/2012
79. Your Eyes For Awhile 1/31/2012
80. Awake And Labouring 2/1/2012
Best Poem of Patrick White

You Are Crazy

You are crazy and beautiful
and wounded and wild
and the youngest daughter
of a coven of poetic sea-witches,
and dangerous as the moon in your changes,
the fragrance of night
hovering over the blue star-honey
of your seductive hive of candles,
the skulls you drink from naked,
anointing the fire
with libations of blood and wine,
dancing to the passionate lament
of ancient serpents
unfolding their wings
like eras in the lives of stars,
constellations that have come and gone like leaves,
seasons that are only distant ...

Read the full of You Are Crazy


The beast of a thousand unconsummated yesterdays
born without names in the gutter
roars in the rags of its own blood
for the poxy apricot of the rising moon. My voice
is a guitar without strings, the dark well
of an eclipse that eats the dragon
that has lingered too long in the depths without stars.
The crazy windows in this burning room
plead for a reason, a purpose, a sign

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