Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

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

The moon in a veil
as if it had coldly evolved an ego.

Frost Kings were crowned
again last night: my garden
is bedecked with lace.

Digging: a fine red worm.
Wisdom: to see everything
as from the grave.

Thinking about my death
I enthusiastically clean out
the septic tank.

Dogshit on pavements:
the unconscious calligraphy
of prisoners.

Rotting leaves
lie on each other lovingly
in hecatombs.

Morning. My erection
does not belie regret
at my father’s.

The day in silence.
At night the telephone rings.
It’s a wrong number.

Winter solitude: gorse-bush
flowering in a muddy field.

Red sky at morning:
the blood of global greed
has reached the very clouds.

Between life and death
I am always hoping to climb
Out of myself.

Winter sunlight:
trying to pull my shadow
out of the shade...

Water on the knee…
Water on the brain…and now
Water on the moon!

With my dog: a cold wet day
is an oceanic experience.

Our lives intertwined,
Oscar and I check up on
each other’s fæces.

Community of luxury:
I drink the wine
while Oscar chews the cork.

Quiet rain. My dog expresses
so much silently – why must we
make so much noise?

Every night, before
we go to bed – a brief
strip-show for my dog.

Ice on a puddle:
the brittle transience of wisdom.


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Poem Submitted: Monday, May 8, 2006

Poem Edited: Thursday, July 22, 2010


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