Lew Welch

(August 16, 1926 — May 23, 1971 / Phoenix, Arizona)

Not Yet 40, My Beard Is Already White. - Poem by Lew Welch

Not yet 40, my beard is already white.
Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red,
like a child who has cried too much.

What is more disagreeable
than last night's wine?

I'll shave.
I'll stick my head in the cold spring and
look around at the pebbles.
Maybe I can eat a can of peaches.

Then I can finish the rest of the wine,
write poems 'til I'm drunk again,
and when the afternoon breeze comes up

I'll sleep until I see the moon
and the dark trees
and the nibbling deer

and hear
the quarreling coons


Comments about Not Yet 40, My Beard Is Already White. by Lew Welch

  • Rookie Richard Hexem (3/12/2010 6:06:00 PM)

    I can feel this! I'm a hard sell!
    Thamk You, Mr. Welch. (Report) Reply

    1 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: spring, child, moon, red, sleep, dark, night, poem, children, tree



Poem Submitted: Thursday, January 1, 2004



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