Terence Winch Poems

My lovers have vanished. I used to have many.
One moved to Boston and married a Japanese photographer.
Another became a famous actress. Another one, who for a long time
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The molecule bore a remarkable resemblance
to Elizabeth Taylor in a bikini shaving her legs.
I thought I was in Paris and behaved accordingly,
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we lived one flight up in our
apartment building and whenever someone
would ring the downstairs bell
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Everything was exactly the way it had always been:
the limos waiting at the hotel in the square, the boutiques,
scalpers, the patter of salespeople, the elaborate
...

Maybe it was the cars crashing tonight,
the full moon, that made us wild.
In the living room there was a big fight
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These Indian pictures never lie.
Their rules against extravagant innocence
are always religiously obeyed. Old people
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1642 Argonne Place, NW
Alley of giant air conditioners, you roared
your ill wind our way day and night. We burned
you down, little house, but you rose right up again.
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In my work, at any given point,
the great issues of identity politics
and dialectical absolutism assume
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The Documents are weeping, fading,
fearing the worst.
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Q. How important is theory in this poem? It seems as though
it just starts, goes nowhere, tells us nothing we need to know.
...