Clive Wilmer

The men who first set foot on the bleached waste That is the moon saw rising near in space A planetary oasis that surpassed The homesick longings of their voyaging race:

Emerald and ultramarine through a white haze Like a torn veil – as if no sand or dust Or stain of spilt blood or invading rust Corrupted it with reds, browns, yellows, greys.

So visionaries have seen it: to design...

For Takeshi Kusafuka

If there were no affliction in this world we might think we were in paradise.

Simone Weil, Gravity and Grace

You, born in Tokyo In nineteen forty-four, Knew the simplicity Occasioned by a war. In London it was so Even in victory – In defeat, how much more.

Knew it I say – and yet, Born to it, you and I, How could we in truth have...

The lone man hearkens to the calm voice, His expression ajar – as if the draught On his face were a breath, a friendly breath, Returning, beyond belief, from time gone by.

The lone man hearkens to the ancient voice His fathers throughout the ages have heard, clear And composed, a voice that much like the green Of the pools and hills deepens at evening.

The lone man knows a voice of...