June 2010
1 post
3 tags
It's our little secret... →
More quality commentary from David MItchell in the Guardian.
April 2010
2 posts
2 tags
3 tags
March 2010
33 posts
2 tags
Cherish
From the window I see her bend to the roses holding close to the bloom so as not to prick her fingers. With the other hand she clips, pauses and clips, more alone in the world than I had known. She won’t look up, not now. She’s alone with roses and with something else I can only think, not say. I know the names of those bushes given for our late wedding: Love, Honor, ...
2 tags
Late Fragment
And did you get what you wanted from this life, even so? I did. And what did you want? To call myself beloved, to feel myself beloved on the earth.
Raymond Carver
3 tags
3 tags
2 tags
Climbing Everest by Frederick Seidel.
2 tags
3 tags
Watch Poem 432 by Tim Key. A bit puerile maybe, but made me smile (which says a lot about my sense of humour).
(via It’s Nice That)
4 tags
4 tags
3 tags
2 tags
The Other Life
My wife is in the other half of this mobile home making a case against me. I can hear her pen scratch, scratch. Now and then she stops to weep, then – scratch, scratch.
The frost is going out of the ground. The man who owns this unit tells me, Don’t leave your car here. My wife goes on writing and weeping, weeping and writing in our new kitchen.
Raymond Carver
2 tags
An Afternoon
As he writes, without looking at the sea, he feels the tip of his pen begin to tremble. The tide is going out across the shingle. But it isn’t that. No, it’s because at that moment she chooses to walk into the room without any clothes on. Drowsy, not even sure where she is for a moment. She waves the hair from her forehead. Sits on the toilet with her eyes closed, head down. Legs...
4 tags
4 tags
4 tags
4 tags
4 tags
4 tags
2 tags
2 tags
Homage to Pessoa
I once loved. I thought I would be loved. But I wasn’t loved. I wasn’t loved for the only reason that matters - It was not to be. I unbuttoned my white gloves and stripped each off. I set aside my gold-knobbed cane. I picked up this pen… And thought how many other men Had smelled the rose in the bud vase And lifted a fountain pen, And lifted a mountain… And put the shotgun...
4 tags
3 tags
3 tags
2 tags
Fate Playing
Because the message somehow met a goblin Because precedents tripped your expectations Because your London was still a kaleidoscope Of names and places any jolt could scramble, You waited mistaken. The bus from the North Came in and emptied and I was not on it. No matter how much you insisted, And begged the driver, probably with tears, To produce me or to remember seeing me Just miss getting on. I...
4 tags
3 tags
3 tags
3 tags
2 tags
5 tags
4 tags
7 tags
February 2010
14 posts
3 tags
2 tags
Bad building blog
http://badbritisharchitecture.blogspot.com/
4 tags
1 tag
1 tag
1 tag
2 tags
3 tags
3 tags
http://www.essentialmixes.net/mixDetail.php?n=Dave%... →
Makes me feel young again
3 tags
3 tags
1 tag
3 tags
For Hannah
Our years spent together don’t fit on one hand. You need two at least and, eventually, toes and more. Even though we’re destined to run out of digits, we’ll never run out of love