Derivation of Philip Larkin

Posted: May 7, 1991 in Poetry
Tags: , , ,

my imagination has nailed my hands
to the earth and
will not allow me to pass.
the grass
presses into the shape of me
and the earth forgives, crumbles away.
I writhe on my stakes,
arch my back and strain to tear them free
my hands. poor blistered and chafed.
I live.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s