Eyewear is opening one shut eye, and slowly easing back into 2012. Here is the thing - the blog will no longer comment on daily politics, obituaries, or offer film, music, and book reviews - unless these are particularly striking. Instead, it will be a far more limited affair (for now), as the publishing business emerges. It will offer one very exciting event - a countdown of THE 100 BEST LIVING BRITISH POETS - as excitement for the Olympics builds.
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