WORDS

POEMS

by


Robert Calvert

[ click HERE to listen to an unreleased demo-track by R.C. feat. this poem - 520k... ]

White Dynasty

 










Chin cupped
In the palm,
Bunched fingers
Pressing up
To lift the flesh
From the cheekbone,
Chinesing the lid:
That's how he sits
When he's reading;
Elbow propped
On a leather arm.
I sometimes catch
Myself in this
Unconscious pose
Of my dad's.
My brother
Does it too.
(It leaves a mark.)
While they relax
On their verandhas -
The sun
Of Johannesburg
X-Raying the page -
Tear gas drifts
In Soweto's lanes.
And I am exiled
At a desk in Kent:
My conscience clear.
But by the time
I have written this,
I know the left side
Of my face will bear
The same
Faint redness
Around the eye.










an unreleased demo-track by R. Calvert

poem taken from: The Earth Ritual

  read a statement of Calvert on the subject on the QUOTES page


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