“Love” Poems For Kathy Number Twenty-Six


(This is the beginning of a very long poem to Kathy, the longest I wrote to her. I put it on another writing platform – which subsequently closed down – and I print the beginning here because it is near and dear to my heart.)

Because the latest messenger has gone,

my pale collections and delivered notes

are scattered everywhere – in trays,

in Cambridge cups and silver-rooms.

(Sticklebacks nest in my larger spoons.)

I am myself a fisher of sorts

and I fish green pike in redundant moats;

occasionally, I am owl of tombs,

a donkey’s back or half a goat’s,

and I call each flower Katharine

by desperate day and night.

I am waking germ in a field of blight

and a heart of heaping sin,

and my mind is mad and has mushroomed in,

and I call each flower Katharine.


And I call each flower Katharine

where the blossoms flame and stray.

My darling, my dearest Katharine,

I have placed my love in clay,

and a dark and desperate flower grows

and gobbles the joy therein –

it is now by night that the brightest day

is shinnying summer-thin;


(from “”Love” Poems For Kathy / Green. Laced. Leaves”)

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