afterthought

blogging angry is like texting pissed...I may not have phrased that last post all that elegantly. But there's no one in life I'm more protective of than mum. So, I had a cup of tea, and settled for half an hour with some Neruda and realised that you can't read "in my sky at twilight" and stay angry.

And just one more thought for the evening...today in a book of literary criticism, Clive James writes about Philip Larkin, and from his poem "For Sydney Bechet"

On me your voice falls as they say love should
like an enormous yes