Arrived back tonight from France to learn of PM Cameron's volte face rejection of his government's curdling plan to deprive kids of their milk. Eeeks. Looking forward to revving up (slowly) for the return in September, of Eyewear, in earnest. Will post some poems and reviews in the coming weeks. The area around Avignon was simply splendid.
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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