Anthony Weir

Rookie (13th September 1941)

The Beauty Of Perfection Is Impossible - But Anything Is Possible To The Imagination - Poem by Anthony Weir

So animal and so benign
the Tyger is my sentinel
my balm of blessedness
my vigilance
the fur most exquisite
in his underparts
his eyes night-centred suns.
In his uninhabitable place
he wears a cage
of soft-edged dashing stripes
a moving maze.
I wear my beast-face:
for his desire
I am a gracious
Minotaur.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, May 5, 2006



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