Monday, 17 December 2012


I had a chance to hear Louis Macneice’s poem Snow last week and and was happily taken by it’s seasonal conveyance of the 'other' which is shaping our lives as the fundemental reality. The world’s plurality is undeniable and of course there to be embraced. Its size and disinterested care of our private and privatised lives is at least something to acknowledge. How do I react to such knowledge especially when I think of Madelaine?
The oceans are there and they can be deadly to my hopes. But I have my boat, my convictions, and a determination to live. The ocean is what I have been given but my choices will be my stars.
And of course I have chosen you. X


The room was suddenly rich and the great bay-window was
Spawning snow and pink roses against it
Soundlessly collateral and incompatible:
World is suddener than we fancy it.

World is crazier and more of it than we think,
Incorrigibly plural. I peel and portion
A tangerine and spit the pips and feel
The drunkenness of things being various.

And the fire flames with a bubbling sound for world
Is more spiteful and gay than one supposes–
On the tongue on the eyes on the ears in the palms of your hands–
There is more than glass between the snow and the huge roses.

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