I've just received my review copy of New Order: Hungarian Poets of the Post 1989 Generation, edited and introduced by George Szirtes, from Arc Publications. I lived in Budapest for almost five years, and met several of these poets. It is a very good-looking book. I look forward to writing on it for Eyewear this summer.
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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