William Morris Meredith Jr.
William Morris Meredith Jr. Poems
|4.||Five Accounts Of A Monogamous Man||1/12/2012|
|5.||Hazard Faces A Sunday In The Decline||1/12/2012|
|6.||“do Not Embrace Your Mind’s New Negro Friend”||1/12/2012|
|8.||Notes For An Elegy||1/12/2012|
|11.||In Loving Memory Of The Late Author Of Dream Songs||1/12/2012|
|13.||The Open Sea||1/12/2012|
|14.||The Wreck Of The Thresher||1/12/2012|
|17.||The Jain Bird Hospital In Delhi||1/12/2012|
|18.||Love Letter From An Impossible Land||1/12/2012|
|20.||Thoughts On One’s Head||1/12/2012|
|21.||Effort At Speech||1/12/2012|
|24.||Accidents Of Birth||1/12/2012|
Comments about William Morris Meredith Jr.
What it must be like to be an angel
or a squirrel, we can imagine sooner.
The last time we go to bed good,
they are there, lying about darkness.
They dandle us once too often,
these friends who become our enemies.
Suddenly one day, their juniors
are as old as we yearn to be.
They get wrinkles where it is better
smooth, odd coughs, and smells.
It is grotesque how they go on
loving us, we go on loving them
The effrontery, barely imaginable,
of having caused us.And of how.
Their lives: surely
we can do better than ...
Touching your goodness, I am like a man
Who turns a letter over in his hand
And you might think this was because the hand
was unfamiliar but, truth is, the man
Has never had a letter from anyone;
And now he is both afraid of what it means
And ashamed because he has no other means
To find out what it says than to ask someone.