Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

Illusions In Three Parts (Haiku Sequence) I - Poem by Anthony Weir

The Northern Lights:
the old dog shakes himself.

A damson falling
brings leaves and wasps
down to earth.

After the Sauna
night-breeze on our nipples.
The Northern Lights.

Friendless and magnificent
above McDonald’s:
the Harvest Moon.

Pond beneath a moonless sky:
Start and finish of everything.

Every year the leaves
are deported by the wind
to the camps of rot.

Its last blood-red leaves gone
how stiff the creeper
on the graveyard wall.

Hoar-frost on the hair
upon the hot chests of the
[magic] mushroom gatherers.

In my autumn groin
mist and rain and river
are indistinguishable.

Dead tree slanting athwart the stream:
Ivy-stems entwine my life.

After the storm, apples pass
from wasps to slugs to me.

Another robin in my mousetrap:
few of us fail to give humanity
a bad name.

Superhuman sound:
a rat gnawing the steel grille
with snow-white teeth.

Wagtail on the roof:
the wise man combs his beard
with a fork.

Seeming to do little
the fossil has survived
a hundred million years.

Full winter moon – is it
a coalescing of coldness?

A winter morning:
the soap is crenellated
by the teeth of rats.

Snowflakes dancing down
on the men who are digging
another mass grave.

December foghorn:
yet another beckoning
from beyond the grave.

The weather forecast.
Millennia of wind and rain
- and now people shave.

Snail-trails in frost:
‘A painter should study
the stains on walls.’

The crotch of a winter birch
love, like the Unicorn
is conceived here.

The skin of the wino
is a beautiful silk palace for lice.

Locked ward
and sunless winter day:
Home is where the mind is.

Neat path. Neat lawn.
Neat visitors.
Neat concentration-camp.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 8, 2006

Poem Edited: Thursday, July 22, 2010


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