Richard Owens


Naked in the Ditches

phlegmatic on my bier
no regrets — my body bears
truth stem to stern
beginning with the hips

who am of common stock
looking to the sea
face ground — nothing now
conjured from dust

suffering — hung by the heels
sought occasion
as will was never conquered
to see the host broken

a swinging scythe — the dance
this most pleasant to me
so make moan of the old days
say why should love live