Long ago, Dr Anton Chekhov wrote in his diary

Risk to make nonsense

This is my two-fingers up to the ever-increasing pathologisation of life:

‘Frolic and Detour’

This book of poems, the 13th by Paul Muldoon, is on my wish list, having read a review in Scotland on Sunday: This passage took my mind to two recent … Continue reading ‘Frolic and Detour’