Yesterday I read that Sapho described poetry as 'Mere air…' to be more precise she is reported to have said, 'Mere air, these words, but delicious to hear…' Like this balloon aside, there is nothing to it, a little soapy water and something to pick it up with so it can catch the mere air. And wouldn't it be nice if we could send these bubbles out into the world, holding the mere air of poetry and songs. Every time one popped you could catch a breathe of W. H. Auden, or Rilke, Wallace Stevens, Emily Dickenson, the list goes on… pop, there goes another, pop, William Carlos Williams,
According to Brueghel
When Icarus fell
It was spring…
Pop, are you listening?
Pop, can you hear the mere air?
Pop…
I don't know if Robbie Burns wrote this as a poem or a lyric for a song but hey, its been a long time since I heard it and as I write this at 5.10 am before I drive to Winchester I wish I had it for the car - mere air in a bubble, pop, dae yeh hear it?
