/lit/ - Literature

32. Now the thirst parches lip and tongue
Autumn 1932, unpublished

Now the thirst parches lip and tongue,
The dry fever burns until no heart is left,
Now is decay in bone and sinew,
When heaven--open wide the gates--has taken flight,
Scaring the sky for thunderbolts to fall
On man and mountain,
Is treason's time and the time of envy.

The acid pours away, the acid drips
Into the places and the crevices
Most fit for lovers to make harmony,
To catch the lovers' palsy,
And on the sweethearts' bed to lie and grin,
To smirk at love's undress,
Make mock of woman's meat,
And drown all sorrows in the gross catastrophe.

The air you breathe

The Air you breathe encroaches
The throat is mine I know the neck
Wind is my enemy your hair shant stir
Under his strong impulsive kiss
The rainbow's foot is not more apt
To have the centaur lover
So steal her not O goat-legged wind
But leave but still adore
For if the gods would love
Theyd see with eyes like mine
But should not touch like I
Your sweet inductive thighs
And raven hair.

Thoughts on Dylan Thomas /lit/? Do you guys think he's a hack or a well rated poet? Redpill me on him.

How well read should someone be aged 20? Should I have started the greeks at 18 at the latest?
Is it too late and all over for me already?
Should I just work 12 hour shifts 6 days a week (for min wage) till I die and be too exhausted to ever read anything challenging?

Where were you when you realized Dylan Thomas is the best poet of all time?

It is a winter's tale
That the snow blind twilight ferries over the lakes
And floating fields from the farm in the cup of the vales,
Gliding windless through the hand folded flakes,
The pale breath of cattle at the stealthy sail,

And the stars falling cold,
And the smell of hay in the snow, and the far owl
Warning among the folds, and the frozen hold
Flocked with the sheep white smoke of the farm house cowl
In the river wended vales where the tale was told.