I'm obviously not orthodox, I don't know how many real poets have ever been orthodox. - R. S. Thomas

All art is anonymous.

No Through Road

All in vain, I will cease now
My long absorption with the plough,
With the tame and the wild creatures
And man united with the earth.
I have failed after many seasons
To bring truth to birth,
And nature's simple equations
In the mind's precincts do not apply.

But where to turn? Earth endures
After the passing, necessary shame
Of winter, and the old lie
Of green places beckons me still
From the new world, ugly and evil,
That men pry for in truth's name.

I am a man now. Pass your hand over my brow. You can feel the place where the brains grow.