Lew Welch poems
Lew Welch(August 16, 1926 — May 23, 1971 / Phoenix, Arizona)
Not yet 40, my beard is already white.
- by Lew Welch 35Not yet 40, my beard is already white.
Not yet awake, my eyes are puffy and red,
like a child who has cried too much.
What is more disagreeable
than last night's wine?
I'll stick my head in the cold spring and
look around at the pebbles.
Maybe I can eat a can of peaches.
Then I can finish the rest of the wine,
write poems 'til I'm drunk again,
and when the afternoon breeze comes up
I'll sleep until I see the moon
and the dark trees
and the nibbling deer
the quarreling coons
I Saw Myself
- by Lew Welch 29I saw myself
a ring of bone
in the clear stream
of all of it
always to be open to it
that all of it
might flow through
and then heard
"ring of bone" where
ring is what a
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