Rarely has a day been so fraught with peril and possibility as St. Patrick's Day, 2011. On the one hand, we have the potential for three or four nuclear meltdowns, that might wreak great havoc on Japan, and on the other, we have the danger that rebel-held Libya might fall to the brutal government forces. In both ongoing dramas, each of the highest possible orders of importance, brave people are facing mortal danger to try and save the day. In each case, the outcome is fully uncertain - will the rods be cooled in time, will the West intervene and stop the Colonel? By the weekend, we may be looking at two compounded tragedies, or two upward trajectories to sunny uplands of hope and repair, or a mix. Fingers crossed.
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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