Tomorrow will be the big reveal and you will finally understand where all of this week’s posts have been building towards. But for today, a hint of things to come; a staged pretext, as it were. The book whose pages I have been flitting within this week has been the Kunstforum International tome devoted to […]
For all the poets he now reads since my ‘death’ (and remember I am a library’s ghost dictating these words to him, my librarian, from the shelves of his ‘living’ library, which I currently haunt), he still has lines of that old-type natural fouled-up guy-poet Philip Larkin enmeshed in his memory. Even when he opens […]