The Changing Light at Mytholmroyd
“As for the style—
I simply tried to shed
Everything. It was quite
An effort to get there—
As much of an effort to
Stay there—every day
I had to find it again.”
—Ted Hughes, Letter
to Keith Sagar, Letters
of Ted Hughes (2007)
Sylvia is dead—so is Assia
Now I—haunt Mytholmroyd
Admittedly—it was all a mistake
Anything written—simply doesn’t last
Poetry—rather than prose
Fairy tales—instead of reportage
Licked clean—old Stone Age walls
Voiceless—out here on the moors
The landscape—has a way of
Fragmenting—human narrative
Line by line—down the
Blank page—down it goes
“As for the style—
I simply tried to shed
Everything. It was quite
An effort to get there—
As much of an effort to
Stay there—every day
I had to find it again.”
—Ted Hughes, Letter
to Keith Sagar, Letters
of Ted Hughes (2007)
Sylvia is dead—so is Assia
Now I—haunt Mytholmroyd
Admittedly—it was all a mistake
Anything written—simply doesn’t last
Poetry—rather than prose
Fairy tales—instead of reportage
Licked clean—old Stone Age walls
Voiceless—out here on the moors
The landscape—has a way of
Fragmenting—human narrative
Line by line—down the
Blank page—down it goes
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