OXFORD, APRIL 2005
Everything was perfect then.
I forced myself to fall in love.
I spent hours at the Bodleian
with the poet from Bromsgrove
while heavy rain undid the river
and dreams of God obscured my sight.
Nothing was repeated, ever.
The fountain basins filled with light.
6 comments:
oh i like this one
Thanks, Craig! I was reminiscing about Oxford the other day and decided to write a poem. How's life?
hehe yeah oxford seems like so long ago. life is good but busy, david's in the city now!
i also really like the schopenhauer poem (such a good title) though i feel like the extra feet in the last line bothers me
these remind me very much of william blake.
hmm i guess there aren't extra feet in that last line of schopenhauer. but something about the meter still throws me off
Yeah, it does feel like there are extra feet, but I checked, and there aren't. Weird.
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