900 posts at Eyewear. Why? And, now it's done, where to? 900 pages in a book, that'd be a lot! Somehow, though, there's ennui in this, a public wasting of energy. Readers will know I've begun to add more reviews, and work, by other writers and poets - increasingly, it seems uninteresting to focus on my own work alone (indeed, I have a pile of recent publications to announce, but never find the enthusiasm for it). Anyway, I've decided to keep the blog going a little longer, at least until the end of April.
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
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