Thursday, January 22, 2015


After ‘Anger’, by David McCooey

I owe a debt to two wonderful Australian poets: John Tranter, for his method and David McCooey for the traces of his 'Anger' that remain in my poem's frame.

“Hysterical”, they say, and turn back
from the unbecoming
abject you’ve become.

Harm achieves no harbour
where dry tongues are moored
in policy’s mouth,

Your thin lips reduce to mute
stock-footage in news
from Capital Hill.

There, insensate suits stand
firm against your bid
to be remembered.

This is the shore you hunger
for –  the line’s been drawn
with righteous clarity.

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