The Desolate Spaces We need our ghosts like poems Especially the kind That cling to the palate The kind of ghosts that belong To no program The kind of poems that cling To the roof of your mouth Like home-made wine I have poetry you said I have poetry I have need Of nothing else I have poetry Nobody except everybody Taught me Now I need only everything Nothing else.
Giants This morning I woke up scared for In my dream I was poet I was a poet in my nightmare Worst of all I think In the uncomfortably quiet streets I think I may have been The only poet Streets like the streets In Blue Velvet or Land of the Giants.
The Last Book This beautiful notebook Sounds like the sea Full of scratches and bites Mayakovsky Wrote that a good notebook And understanding how to use it Are more important than Just about anything I am extra careful I carry a beautiful library around with me everywhere In a stone Small sharp white no black Imbued with the nothing of ages Carrying everything dangerous Dangerously self-educated A boatload of navigators learning new tongues After nothing more than a fair crack at happiness Poetry they tell us Is always a new page Nestled in between the lines Of the old page In the last book.
Dr John Falzon is Chief Executive of the St Vincent de Paul Society National Council and is author of The Language of the Unheard (2012).