Poems

American Night

18 January 2014

9:00 AM

18 January 2014

9:00 AM

All in the half-dark, we watch the dead
playing the parts of the living, in roles
we have seen before: The Quiet Man, or
The Song of Bernadette. A stranger
in a blue Thames van came from somewhere
to the west as night drew in, to unload
the big, flat cans with reels in them and tramp
up the unpainted stairs to the organ-loft
in the Church Hall. But I don’t remember
seeing this film before: which must be right
because I can’t recall what happens next,
or even whether it has a happy ending.

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  • Wise words …

    Since we, like our ancestors a century ago, are unable to predict civilization a century from now, it is foolish to think that civilization’s advance simply depends upon applying today’s knowledge and ideas.

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