Still getting a lot of pleasure from the simple act of shelving a book after years of not having enough space.
(As usual: I take the picture and then realise that some are in the wrong place!)
They wake us, and every day waking is absurdity;
All the things you just did yesterday to do over again, eternally.
....
Will be, in eternity, coffee to be brewed and that moment in the shower
When you open your mouth and rhotacise the water and just stand there,
Stupid bliss of hot water, tongue-tingling, steaming the shower.
pickI've got tickets to go and hear her read!
Three long-form poems: "You Very Young in New York", "Repeat Until Time", and "The Sandpit After Rain". Both autobiographical and philosophical, exploring the paradoxical nature of time as simultaneously linear and circular (and the habit the events of our lives have of happening out of sync.) It's a collection that I admired rather than loved, but there's much to appreciate.
This morning's #libraryhaul : four poetry books. This amply illustrates the difference in the demand for fiction and that for poetry (in my neck of the woods, at least). I had to wait since October for the Booker Prize shortlisted books I've been reading recently. Hannah Sullivan's "Three Poems" won this year's T. S. Eliot Prize. I reserved it, along with these others, on Monday.
Three Poems | 
