| The Poetry of Richard Sansom Published by The British Sansom Society | |
 
| |
| What God Was About to Give You’re mistaken, we’ve never met. Never, never met before. We’ve never met. You are living in a dream. You are not looking at me. You are struggling through each moment like a madman, blind man, feeling along the walls of a sanitarium. I sympathize with your condition, but not with you. I’ve seen your type down on First Street, squatting over the curb. Yes, you were there, looking over your shoulder with the eyes of Michelangelo’s doomed sinners. You are human, like Adam was human, intoxicated with what God was about to give, but ended up on First Street, in dirty morning light, eyes glaring through the scene with autonomic sight. You say we’ve met, but no, I come from Eden, a land as far away as Nod as the sea is from the sun and you are a stranger to me. We’ve never met before, never met. We’ve both already received what God was about to give, and done with it all we can. You believe this makes us brothers? | |
| BACK TO TOP OF PAGE |