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New Left Review I/8, March-April 1961


Jon Silkin

3 Poems by Jon Silkin

DEPTHS

Textures? Why always textures?
The fuss. It is enough
You take and hold the thing:
That being warm, it gives you
A special sense of permanence.
Since but for the whole shape
There would be no texture.
Despair
Has texture. It is constructed
From a total helplessness.
Despair is texture; without it
We should not know how to face
The thing with such certainty
Of loss. But touching this,
We very gently feel
The whole paralysis
Of agony give way
Into the steadfastnesses
Of reality,
The differing planes of surface
We cannot avoid contact with
Which employ the sunk depths.

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