With All This Darkness Round Me I

You Would Do Better, At Least No Worse, To Obliterate Texts Than To Blacken Margins, To Fill In The Holes Of Words Till All Is Blank And Flat And The Whole Ghastly Business Looks Like What It Is, Senseless, Speechless, Issueless Misery.

Dying For Dark — And The Darker The Worse. Strange.

Against The Charitable Gesture There Is No Defence.

Do You Always Believe In The Life To Come? Mine Was Always That.

What Are We Doing Here, That Is The Question.