as long as i've been listening to august and everything after, i've wanted to go to omaha. to get right to the heart of matters. that kind of thing. and tomorrow i'll be there...somewhere in middle america. with its cornfields and its bright eyes and its miles of sky.
and what a week. it has been my immense pleasure to share a room with some of the finest poets alive today. over the course of the past week of louis macneice centenary celebrations, i've heard poetry from michael longley, derek mahon, simon armitage, nick laird, don paterson, paul muldoon, richard murphy, sinead morrissey, medbh mcguckian and thomas macarthy. 
we don't travel by sea much any more. but i feel very conscious of leaving these shores to cross the sea to a place where i'll only glimpse the shoreline rarely, if at all. but i'll have louis in mind...the flux and poise of the sea...and hart crane...and all my other paperback companions.
bags are packed. cupboards are empty. candles flicker on the sill for the last time this year. endings and beginnings... beginnings and endings...
