Читать книгу Collected Love Poems - Brian Patten - Страница 2
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These Songs Were Begun One Winter
Through All Your Abstract Reasoning
Doubt Shall Not Make an End of You
After Rimbaud’s Première Soirée
Now They Will Either Sleep, Lie Still, or Dress Again
When She Wakes Drenched from Her Sleep
It is Time to Tidy Up Your Life
The Innocence of Any Flesh Sleeping
The Assassination of the Morning
A Creature to Tell the Time By
And Nothing is Ever as Perfect as You Want It to Be
Somewhere Between Heaven and Woolworth’s
At Four O’Clock in the Morning
Apart Together in Her Bed We Lay
Towards Evening and Tired of the Place
The Morning’s Got a Sleepy Head
You Come to Me Quiet as Rain Not Yet Fallen
You Missed the Sunflowers at Their Height
Probably It Is Too Early in the Morning
Near the Factory Where They Make the Lilac Perfume
Because There Were No Revelations at Hand
I Caught a Train that Passed the Town Where You Lived
The Bee’s Last Journey to the Rose
If Words Were More Her Medium than Touch
I Have Changed the Numbers on My Watch
Tristan, Waking in His Wood, Panics
Over All We Are a Shadow Falls
Fingers Have Bruised Your Skin the Way a Fallen Peach is Bruised
Poem Written in the Street on a Rainy Evening
