Mahon writes from lower Manhattan, addressing, in ramble or vigil, his absent lover, his children in London, Auden, Yeats s father, and other cosmic vagrants, clutching our bits and pieces, arrogant in dereliction. In the eighteen sections of The Hudson Letter, the gabble of a dockside bar, voices of a recycled Sappho and of an Irish immigrant girl reassuring her mother in Inishannon, and the midwinter, all-night sounds of the City intersperse with...
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Poetry