Thom Gunn Poems
|5.||Tamer And Hawk||8/29/2014|
|7.||For A Birthday||12/3/2014|
|8.||Painting By Vuillard||1/3/2003|
|9.||To Yvor Winters||1/3/2003|
|10.||A Map Of The City||11/12/2005|
|12.||The Butcher's Son||1/3/2003|
|14.||From The Wave||11/7/2005|
|17.||Considering The Snail||1/3/2003|
|18.||My Sad Captains||1/13/2003|
|21.||On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'||1/13/2003|
|22.||The Man With Night Sweats||1/3/2003|
Comments about Thom Gunn
The Man With Night Sweats
I wake up cold, I who
Prospered through dreams of heat
Wake to their residue,
Sweat, and a clinging sheet.
My flesh was its own shield:
Where it was gashed, it healed.
I grew as I explored
The body I could trust
Even while I adored
The risk that made robust,
A world of wonders in
Each challenge to the skin.
I cannot but be sorry
The given shield was cracked,
My mind reduced to hurry,
My flesh reduced and wrecked.
I have to change the bed,
But catch myself instead
Stopped upright where I am
Hugging my body...
To Yvor Winters
Though night is always close, complete negation
Ready to drop on wisdom and emotion,
Night from the air or the carnivorous breath,
Still it is right to know the force of death,
And, as you do, persistent, tough in will,
Raise from the excellent the better still.