Severn I Morning’s dust, the language is ordinary and the music is missed Where the note cuts in vain - the pulse of a boy is born into twilight’s trust Where the fates stuck, and the sails of separation wreaked a sad course. Severn II There is no escaping this. The dark eventuality of Wales in its last regress beacons all walking disasters and makes them wait. But there is sanctuary in pain. Beneath our past there lies a cruder prehistory bursting the vein. There is no escaping that. Severn IX What do I know about life, except She pulses in my pointless veins and draws the fibres of my muscles tight in fear and despair at the sight of herself walking upright, and animated, shrouded, and shimmering wet: A being dipped in the crypt of the world? Severn X First the banks. Then the supermarkets burst. Open the road - we must run Leaving everything. From the super-fluidity of the heart To the barren openness of the brain. We must run, like the river I am bleeding on.
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