My throat knew thirst

before the structure Of skin

and vein around the well

Where words and water make a mixture

Unfailing till the blood runs foul;

My heart knew love,

my belly hunger;

I smelt the maggot in my stool.

And time cast forth my mortal creature

To drift or drown upon the seas

Acquainted with the salt adventure

Of tides that never touch the shores.

I who was rich was made the richer

By sipping at the vine of days.

I,

born of flesh and ghost,

was neither

A ghost nor man,

but mortal ghost.

And I was struck down by death's feather.

I was a mortal to the last

Long breath that carried to my father

The message of his dying christ.

You who bow down at cross and altar,

Remember me and pity Him

Who took my flesh and bone for armour

And doublecrossed my mother's womb.

from Before I Knocked

"Dylan talked copiously, then stopped.

'Somebody's boring me,' he said,

'I think it's me.'"

Dylan Thomas