Thom Gunn Poems
|4.||For A Birthday||12/3/2014|
|7.||Tamer And Hawk||8/29/2014|
|8.||From The Wave||11/7/2005|
|9.||To Yvor Winters||1/3/2003|
|10.||Painting By Vuillard||1/3/2003|
|12.||A Map Of The City||11/12/2005|
|13.||The Butcher's Son||1/3/2003|
|16.||My Sad Captains||1/13/2003|
|18.||Considering The Snail||1/3/2003|
|21.||The Man With Night Sweats||1/3/2003|
|22.||On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'||1/13/2003|
On The Move 'Man, You Gotta Go.'
The blue jay scuffling in the bushes follows
Some hidden purpose, and the gush of birds
That spurts across the field, the wheeling swallows,
Have nested in the trees and undergrowth.
Seeking their instinct, or their pose, or both,
One moves with an uncertain violence
Under the dust thrown by a baffled sense
Or the dull thunder of approximate words.
On motorcycles, up the road, they come:
Small, black, as flies hanging in heat, the Boy,
Until the distance throws them forth, their hum
Bulges to thunder held by calf and thigh.
In goggles, donned...
Considering The Snail
The snail pushes through a green
night, for the grass is heavy
with water and meets over
the bright path he makes, where rain
has darkened the earth's dark. He
moves in a wood of desire,
pale antlers barely stirring
as he hunts. I cannot tell