I've received a flood of new books to read and put up for review at Eyewear, such as, as it happens, Flood, by AF Harrold, Sunflowers in Your Eyes: Four Zimbabwean Poets, and Arlene Lang's Seeing Birds in Church is a Kind of Adieu. Also been sent the latest Peter Finch, from Seren, which I am pleased to have supplied a blurb for, on the back. And much more. Will try and get these looked at over the summer or sooner.
A poem for my mother, July 15 When she was dying And I was in a different country I dreamt I was there with her Flying over the ocean very quickly, And arriving in the room like a dream And I was a dream, but the meaning was more Than a dream has – it was a moving over time And land, over water, to get love across Fast enough, to be there, before she died, To lean over the small, huddled figure, In the dark, and without bothering her Even with apologies, and be a kiss in the air, A dream of a kiss, or even less, the thought of one, And when I woke, none of this had happened, She was still far distant, and we had not spoken.
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