Felix Dennis

Felix Dennis, Poet, Publisher and Tree Planter

The Barn

Oh— I’ve kept every letter I ever received,
   (With copies of those that I sent),
They are filed and piled in boxes and crates
   (A right pretty penny I spent).
They are locked in a barn the size of house
    With shelving as tall as a tree,
And if I don’t care to— (or dare to) go visit:
   They’re there if I want them —
				 you see?

Dorsington, Warwickshire July 3, 2006

Odd behaviour, I know. But I am not the first to suffer from an absurd horror of discarding letters and papers. Nor, perhaps, am I alone in my contradictory aversion to inspecting the flesh and bone of the past, especially black-and-white documentary bones. Never mind, my executors can have a wonderful bonfire party while they polish off the last few bottles of wine stored in my cellar!

This poem is a work in progress. It is incomplete, unfinished and has not been revised. It is meant only to offer a glimpse into the notebook of a poet at work. Please do not post it onto other sites or publish it in any form without this notice being attached. Thank you — Felix Dennis

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