R. S. Thomas was a Welsh poet and pastor, a wonderful, earthy weaver of words.
Truly
No, I was not born
to refute Hume, to write
the first poem with no
noun. My gift was
for evasion, taking
cover at the approach
of greatness, as of
ill-fame. I looked truth
in the eye, and was not
abashed at discovering
it squinted. I fasted
at import's table, so had
an appetite for the banal,
the twelve baskets full left
over after the turning
of the little into so much.
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