My life, I don’t expect you to provide
fixed waymarks, trusted scenes or worldly gain.
Now that you hold me in your restless round,
honey and wormwood taste the same to me.
The heart that treats all feelings with disdain
is startled — rarely — into sympathy.
Just as we sometimes hear a gunshot sound,
breaking the silence of the countryside.
Mia vita, a te non chiedo lineamenti
fissi, volti plausibili o possessi.
Nel tuo giro inquieto ormai lo stesso
sapore han miele e assenzio.
Il cuore che ogni moto tiene a vile
raro è squassato da trasalimenti.
Così suona talvolta nel silenzio
della campagna un colpo di fucile.
Chalkface Press is pleased to announce the publication of
by John Richmond
Each book costs £10, plus £2 postage and packing throughout the world.
Email chalkface@icloud.com or john@myproperlife.com. An invoice will be enclosed with the book(s).
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