There's an awful lot of God in the ordinary bloke
David, David, you couldn't have been named anything else, could you?
At noon, in the dead centre of a faith
It is so lovely and so right.
Plague victims catapulted over castle walls
I am in my workroom but there is no question of work.
A cow and her two calves.
I do not know how to think or what to think.
When I put my ear to the hole.
The unread mail, the patients.
Maud went to college.
First I worked for Hopkins, then there was that book.
The wind, turn your back and push.
I think Ernest was something I deserved.
You may write me down in history with your bitter twisted lies.
My mother said once: When you were young, you killed small things.
The Green Man on Hello Street.
And now I will finish this long story.
One night the tide went out, and didn't come in.
1,124 nights.
I must remember where I lay.
It was written on top of my slavery.
The brave do not have to be cruel. They can be gentle.
His name was Robbie Cox, a butcher's son
Light splashed this morning
Sunday, 9 September 2007
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