Welsh Journals

His bulldog jaw persevers taut upon his tough bone-headed thought; 110 man can daunt his just intent to say exactly what he meant. He has an earnest rosy face, he wields it like a stone-age mace, he drops my smartest quips like meat, and leaves them bleeding at my feet. When I look in his eyes and slide straight through and out the other side, the odd sensation that I know is not disgust-it's vertigo. Valerie Minogue BIRTHDAY It's different this year: worse in many ways. The icicles hang on the days and there is more to fear. Once there were some, young and few, listening to time in a seashore shell. Where they are gone I cannot tell. Who were they? 0, I can't remember who. Then there were drinks raised to a toast, a brief adventure, unimportant now; hands clasped to celebrate a vow, and no one knows who cared the most. Fleet love, slow-footed luck, recede like walkers in an empty street; changed hearts learn a different beat, the eyes learn how to blink, the head to duck. Roy Brewer