Monday, 17 July 2017

Object (July)

It's a morning in July like others, where a change of air does us good and we take down 'Later Auden' (Mendelson) from one of the solid bookcases and open to 1958-1973, over breakfast coffee. The room where poems are made is a place where "silence/ is turned into objects, " even these picked out on a keyboard, glowing now on a screen of sheer sunlight. He was a wordsmith, what they do, and doubtful about word pictures that describe the lime-tree at the window or the chooks foraging autumn-wintered leaves; but not the prospect of a walk through town.

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