Great news about Carol Anne Duffy becoming first woman Poet Laureate, ever.
Apparently, she was in the running ten years back, but Tony Blair declined to make the appointment, worrying how her sexuality would “sell” in mythical Mail-reading Middle England. He should have had the courage to take on backward homophobic attitudes.
Ho, hum.
I love her work, whether it’s ruminations on the very nature of art:
“Six hours like this for a few francs.
Belly nipple arse in the window light,...
I shall be represented analytically and hungin great museums.
The bourgeoisie will coat such an image of a river-whore.
They call it Art.”
Or the joy of becoming a parent:
“Light gatherer.
You fell from a star
into my lap,
... and now you shine like a snowgirl”
Or the inconsolable pain of a great love lost
“What do I have
to help me, without spell or prayer,
endure this hour, endless, heartless, anonymous,
the death of love?”
Congratulations, Carol Anne, and if you ever need any help with the sherry...
No comments:
Post a Comment