new zealand electronic poetry centre


 Capital of  the minimal
J a y   C l a r k s o n

The Man With No Desire

Not for hire
His heart was not for anyone
No desire
The man had no desire
Come to him – he likes that
But he’ll not let you in
He was so confused he could not choose
He was so unwell he could not tell

What he felt
(The cards that he’d been dealt)
Stirred nothing inside
Uninvolved – don’t ask him
To give of himself
To a fault his ideals were
Impeccably correct
But he would not connect

Would he die empty or die too full?
Had he been spoilt or had they been cruel?

Out of touch
The man was out of touch

He sits in his chair and he waits
Stares into the fire
The man had no desire.

[Misericord, Tall Poppy Records 1991]


©Jay Clarkson 2004


Last updated 12 July, 2004