Good news. The major poet
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.
Comments
Have you read his works? I'd never heard of him until the news about the Nobels.
I'm also delighted that the Nobel went to a poet and not one of the usual suspects. Neil Astley (his publisher) was sounding pretty pleased with himself on the PM programme yesterday.
Berst wishes from Simon