Philip Larkin. His poem Broadcast.
One imagining another, distant, being present, anonymously as part of audience at a musical concert, Royals in attendance, played out over radio airwaves.
Imagining her fallen glove, her conservative shoes. Trying to make out the sound of her hands, tiny in all that air, among the rush of applause.
Magnificently lonely.
...
Beautifully melancholy.
ReplyDeleteYes. If you haven't already, go to the poem itself. Many of his others speak to that same place.
ReplyDeleteYes Larkin was an odd fish, not to say excentric
ReplyDeleteAs a librarian, Larkin did have his head deep in the waters where many of us don't swim.
ReplyDelete