from 1966:
. . . the ancients realised,
Noting your tips in trimmings kindled quick,
Your mauled roots roared with confused ardours,
Holding in heat, like great sorrows contained
By silence; dead branch or alive grew pelt
Refused the rain and harboured the ample oil
For lamps to light the human eye ..
No need to add how turning downwind
You pierce again today the glands of memory ..
Olives
[extracts]
The Ikons
1966
Selected Poems
Peter Porter
editor
Faber & Faber, 2006©
Javier Bosca
photography
Fernando Lindez
Esquire Italia, 11.2018©
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