The Common Weather by Nicholas Moore

And here indeed is the irrelevance
Of all distinctions, here this warm, damp morning.
And men and women, hurrying in the streets
Are all brought to a common level,
I and my friends distinct and different creatures,
All that we have a common knowledge of evil.

Yet times are not so indolent as we think.
There is more to a traffic than a mere
Weapon of disease, of unchanged, of desire.
Men and women are good as well as evil,
And that queer bronze flame of hair
That I, Oh! remember, changes the whole level.

There is level upon which all men disport:
And that hair, and all those other womanly
Distinctions melt into desires which hurt,
The pain, the beauty equally acute,
Of the unachieved, the unachievable,
That longing to possess which is a hell.

And here brought by a common weather to
Considerations of the commonplace,
I sit like a clown and hide my smiling face,
Conscious of the despair, the truth, the evil,
The actions which destroy that queer bronze flame.
Bringing distinction down and glories level.


Date: 1947

By: Nicholas Moore (1918-1986)


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