John Digby
how sad this morning
How sad this morning
The acrobats of space
Perform for destitute Kings
India never existed
Until her mountains
Trembled under
The left index finger nail
Of St. John
The bridges of Germany have collapsed
Hamburg Berlin and Darmstadt
Have buried their shadows beneath
The protests of childrens' voices
Yesterday the sun showed us her back
Repeating Good Morning Good Morning
How sad this morning
The wind turns its pockets inside out
Before a tribunal of pirates
I have given all my money
To the harlequins who pause
Motionless at the edge of a gale
Page(s) 31
magazine list
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- North, The
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- Obsessed with pipework
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- Poetry London (1951)
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- Poetry Salzburg Review
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- Review, The
- Rialto, The
- Second Aeon
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- Shearsman
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- Staple
- Strange Faeces
- Tabla Book of New Verse, The
- Thumbscrew
- Tolling Elves
- Ugly Tree, The
- Weyfarers
- Wolf, The
- Yellow Crane, The