dark looks

I’ve been reviewing the contents of my slab of old bits of writing. Most of it, of course, is nonsense (for that matter, so’s this), but life is in edit, and I had reason to think of the friend I wrote it for the other day, so here it is again. The original is dated [...]

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Sat quietly here in Darklooks Mansions, I have been completely unable to get out of my head the snippet of doggerel Ethel Meaker came out with to explain Nadia Popov’s dangerous hayfever to, I think, some native American ghosts who, just to really lay the cultural understanding on thick, could only speak in Longfellowesque trochaic [...]

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(to make up for the offence Les Murray may have caused to those of a delicate sensibility)

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I’ve been unselfconsciously reading terribly depressing poems all evening, but am curiously reminded how much I enjoy them, and not at all in an I-shall-wear-only-black-isn’t-life-dreadful sort of way.

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