Deep down, no one really believes they have a right to live. But this death sentence generally stays tucked away, hidden beneath the difficulty of living. If that difficulty is removed from time to time, death is suddenly there, unintelligibly.Jean Baudrillard
- Come, take hands, you are not such
As this will weary overmuch.
Sit we down, and hear rehearse
The marvels of the sweet-souled verse
- Poem With a copy of "The Faithful Shepherdess"
- You know the wild flowers suit your hair:
Place hands full of the purple bloom
Of loosestrife, glad of such soft doom,
And tender-toned narcissus there
- Poem Fate and the Little Flowers
- Your father bears an iron reed
Filled with a flame that makes us bleed;
Your kindly mother loves to tear
Feathers and skin to deck her hair.
- Poem A song for Edmund Blunden