Tomorrow, another Nobel for a writer. The buzz is for Franzen. If a poet (in English, to be parochial for a minute), the following have a shot: Les Murray, Bill Manhire, Paul Muldoon, Anne Carson, Geoffrey Hill, and John Ashbery - each is a major figure, and is worthy. I can only guess at the many other-languaged poets out there. Again, prose writers in English who are deserving include Philip Roth, Margaret Atwood, and John Banville. It probably should go to Murakami. We shall see...
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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Duncan
http://scarriet.wordpress.com/2011/08/05/forever-green/
Duncan