SIX POEMS FROM THE BOOK OF DISASSOCIATEDNESS



by



Anthony Weir

Loch Caolаn, Ireland







1.



All roads lead nowhere

to world's end which was our beginning.

The traveller is the banality

of travel - what he sees is what he likes

to feel. Everything you say is Nothing.

But there is no Nothing.

Each of us is somebody - and no-one;

disgrace our only depth

in doomed diversity

where all thought is criminal

and love is a disease like greed.

Time is the absence of bliss.

"Who will save me from Existence ?"

Only myself, denying the monotony

of unwished-for echo and abyss.