I had a really nice birthday. Day at the MFA with Degas' nudes, dinner with my family at Bergamot. The week since has been mixed, but I read Sean O'Brien's The Drowned Book (2007) and Irmgard Keun's The Artificial Silk Girl (Die kunstseidene Mädchen, 1932) and I've got three-quarters of Edward Petherbridge's Slim Chances and Unscheduled Appearances (2011) to go; I am not without really well-written diversions.
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Active Entries
- 1: Make me a wreck as I come back and spare me as I'm going
- 2: Did you see the closing window? Did you hear the slamming door?
- 3: Keeping time on the kingfisher's climb
- 4: Because brick-braided alleys make steep, sleeping valleys seem level and clear
- 5: Don't look round, but I think we're taking off
- 6: Sing the praise of Alexander, he's no use to me
- 7: The hedges and fields are clothed all around with several sorts of green
- 8: Chinatown, London Underground, you know it all sounds good to me
- 9: Take us roaming in the gloaming, your Ross rifle by your side
- 10: I'm singing out this poem all the way back home
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