Yesterday I experienced the catharsis when watching the movie The Edge of Love. It is the story of the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas and his two exceptional wives in the time of the war. Fortunately it is not the pathetic nonsense such as Sylvia was a couple of years ago.
One of my most beloved Dylan Thomas poems:
Twenty-four years remind the tears of my eyes.
(Bury the dead for fear that they walk to the grave in labour.)
In the groin of the natural doorway I crouched like a tailor
Sewing a shroud for a journey
By the light of the meat-eating sun.
Dressed to die, the sensual strut begun.
With my red veins full of money,
In the final direction of the elementary town
I advance as long as forever is.