Don Coles

No, he never saw her so, his wife naked Under her dress in trifling talk With somebody in that dark garden Down there – but he thought it. If he could trade this in For a sadder thought he would. Now any pause by day or night Lights it up inside, her body’s gentle Tips and declivities Unshadow the world, he can’t believe Such bliss escapes anybody. There must be another day...

I must declare an interest in this particular Thomas. Dylan, R.S., above all the heart-inscribed Edward – these I admire, respect, claim. D.M. I have had little luck with.

I dreamt last night of my own Death. As I died, I became the Wren Library in Nevile’s Court in Trinity College, Cambridge. Dying, The library became even more Luminous, its splendid thinly leaded Clerestory windows were lighting up Even more valuably.

I tried to phone a cab To go downtown but the line went Dead!

My wife was moved. She had A new friend already, however.

Sophie S., a...