Forward to New Numbersby Christopher Logue

IIf this book doesn’t

change you

give it no house space

If having read it, you are the same personyou were before picking it up

then throw it away

Not enough for me that my poems shine in your eye

Not enough for me that they look from your walls

or lurk from your shelves

I want my poems to be in your mind

so you can say themwhen you are in love

so you can say themwhen the plane takes off

and death comes near

I want my poems to come between the raised stick and the cowering back

I want my poems to become a weapon

in your trembling hands

a sword whose blade both makes and mirrors

But most of all

I want my poems

sung

unthinkingly between your lips

like air

If this book doesn’t change yougive it no house space;if having read it youare the same person youwere before picking it up,then throw it away.

Not enough for methat my poems shine in your eye;not enough for methat they look from your wallsor lurk on your shelves;I want my poems to be in your mindso you can say them when you are in loveso you can say them when the plane takes offand death comes near;I want my poems to come betweenthe raised stick and the cowering back,I want my poems to becomea weapon in your trembling hands,a sword whose blade both makes and mirrors change;but most of all I want my poems sungunthinkingly between your lips like air.

New Numbers