The PredictionMark Strand
That night the moon drifted over the pond,
turning the water to milk, and under
the boughs of the trees, the blue trees
a young woman walked, and for an instantthe future came to her:rain falling on her husband’s grave, rain fallingon the lawns of her children, her own mouthfilling with cold air, strangers moving into her housea man in her room writing a poem, the moon drifting into it,a woman strolling under its trees, thinking of death,thinking of him thinking of her, and the wind risiingand taking the moon and leaving the paper dark.(1937)
‘I think about him every time I go swimming’: David Hockney remembered by
Rachel Whiteread, Jeremy Deller and more
-
Artists and cultural figures celebrate the great Yorkshire painter who
could ‘make teabags and toothpaste glamorous’ – with a poem from a fellow
Yorkshir...
1 hour ago

No comments:
Post a Comment