For all the whirlwind ambition and hustle of the world, Christmas Eve reminds us of one thing, if we are fortunate enough, as I am, to be at home, in a warm candle-lit kitchen with beloved family members, drinking hot chocolate, playing board games, and eating and drinking merrily - no one who is loved, and loves, and has Christmas in their heart, need ever trade places with kings or celebrities or billionaires, or famous writers, or even Queens... joy is modest and based in the carpenter's world, not the world of bombast and royalty. Ring the bells within, and enjoy what you have. The rest is the crashing of meaningless cymbals. Love to all!
THAT HANDSOME MAN A PERSONAL BRIEF REVIEW BY TODD SWIFT I could lie and claim Larkin, Yeats , or Dylan Thomas most excited me as a young poet, or even Pound or FT Prince - but the truth be told, it was Thom Gunn I first and most loved when I was young. Precisely, I fell in love with his first two collections, written under a formalist, Elizabethan ( Fulke Greville mainly), Yvor Winters triad of influences - uniquely fused with an interest in homerotica, pop culture ( Brando, Elvis , motorcycles). His best poem 'On The Move' is oddly presented here without the quote that began it usually - Man, you gotta go - which I loved. Gunn was - and remains - so thrilling, to me at least, because so odd. His elegance, poise, and intelligence is all about display, about surface - but the surface of a panther, who ripples with strength beneath the skin. With Gunn, you dressed to have sex. Or so I thought. Because I was queer (I maintain the right to lay claim to that
Comments