In the amber of a late October,
altered by illness
and a mauling from friends, we have
come again to London, and come
one to the other,
it seems, for the first time
in twenty-something years.
These are our days.
Above, white lines from Heathrow
streak the sky, an airplane flashing
Three Great Readings of WB Yeats Poems
Below are three of my favorite readings of Yeats’s poetry. The first is from Bob Geldof’s flawed but fabulous program … Read more