Herbie Mann Comin' Home

Saturday, November 7, 2009

A Fit Crit Of Brit Lit




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.


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4 comments:

  1. Yes. If you haven't already, go to the poem itself. Many of his others speak to that same place.

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  2. Yes Larkin was an odd fish, not to say excentric

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  3. As a librarian, Larkin did have his head deep in the waters where many of us don't swim.

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