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July 31, 2022

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A beautiful poem and strangely out of time, hence timeless. Oh I long for those long gone days when I could take my New York Times to the cafe and gaze at other diners in between page one and two.

Thank you.

Indran

Indran Amirthanaygam, poet, publisher, Beltway Editions.

This speaks to all of us. Thank you. The perishability that poetry makes permanent.

Moving and immediate. Thanks, Alicia Jo and Terence!


Thanks for the comment, Jack.

I too was thinking how wonderful to turn the pages instead of scrolling through the Times. I think this is a beautiful poem. I can relate to the poem, the subway experience, the desire that stays with us through out even as the body ages. I like the honesty of this poem, the fluid thinking/imagining language. Thanks Alicia Jo Rabins

An outstanding poem by a very gifted poet, who manages here to move from the personal and local to the universal, reaching the plateau of human desire without losing contact with the coffee, the croissant, the newspaper. Wonderful art, too: subway riders were always subweaya readers when I took the subway to school or to work.

to all of the above comments, i say: ditto

This Sunday morning's liturgy featured the words: "Vanity of vanities, all things are vanity." Later in the day, I read a contemporary English version of this entire book, which stated instead:"Nothing makes sense. Everything is nonsense." Later still this same Sunday, I came upon this piercingly beautiful poem, which could almost be a personal take on the biblical book, echoing its sentiments with: "what is it for anyway...soon it will be over." These repetitions through the day have the Sunday School lesson for me that perhaps things are as they should be. The words of futility awaken what is at least for today a feeling of peace.

She gets it right: Sunday mornings cry out for ritual: Catholic church or urban cafe, scripture or newspaper, satin vestments or strappy heels, communion host or ripe boysenberry--ripe for only a day, only an hour.

The ambience and poignance ring very true. The send me back to the days many decades ago when I used to slide into a cafe on a Sunday to read the Times people left behind. Omg I think a metaphor lurks there….

Your words are a relatable incite into a moment moment in time many of us have experienced but never talked about.

T -

It's now Friday. I have lost count of the the number of times I have returned to this poem.

This poem, and the Mora, and the Vettriano. WOW.

Thanks for this (these).


PJC: Thanks for the comment.

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"Lively and affectionate" Publishers Weekly

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I left it
on when I
left the house
for the pleasure
of coming back
ten hours later
to the greatness
of Teddy Wilson
"After You've Gone"
on the piano
in the corner
of the bedroom
as I enter
in the dark


from New and Selected Poems by David Lehman

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