Flashback to the Future

Back In college I coaxed some friends into creating our own Dead Poets Society where we'd sneak out into the woods or a playground after dark with flashlights. We'd read great poems of the past or our own (equally great) poems. We were too young too drink and smoking was a sin. Poesy was our only vice - even in hardback it's cheaper.


We all later got DPS tattoos to prove what hardcore lit geeks we are. My wife reminded me that one of our friends read this to us one Friday at midnight.

Stevie Smith

Not Waving But Drowning

Nobody heard him, the dead man,
But still he lay moaning:
I was much further out than you thought
And not waving but drowning.


Poor chap, he always loved larking
And now he's dead
It must have been too cold for him his heart gave way,
They said.


Oh, no no no, it was too cold always
(Still the dead one lay moaning)
I was much too far out all my life
And not waving but drowning.