The Source

Peacocks

Their grounds abut a large colonial on Staten Island: Five or six of them Swaggering along verdant lawns, Brick walkways, man-made ponds – Such bravado. What pretty boys! Pets of somebody, clearly. They preen each...

The Source Rory Maguire -

The day she died

...

The Source Nat Conboy -

Death’s Lament

Please, I have done what you asked. I burned it all for her. I wrench the...

The Source Tilly White -

And she woke up…

Yesterday I thought I saw you between blinks of an eye: a lecture together and notes left...

Culture Natalie Conboy -

Latest

round

of feeling directional

The Sheldonian

That is the beauty of the concert. Music threading its way in and out of the thoughts of a hundred vague spirits in the audience.

Unterwegs

So let us meet at the station, then, and what happens after we can decide again

Affairs

like landmines or arms holding someone they love

Ping-pong

Stupid rules are still rules

Addressed to the Stones:

We’re alive and beyond comparison

Sun sets, small town

So the masks are sloughed off, and my heart stretches a shining ladder, reaches

Wild Flowers

Join me as I walk past the best of gardensIts tulips nod my wayBut their colours filter through my sunglassesAnd don’t quite hit me...

Watching, Seeing

I wonder why it matters so much to me that they’re watching. When I picture you, pulling up at the side of a cobbled...

Slightly Stained

My breath is since-soured coffee and yours is sweet cigarette smoke.

The two

Its embers surround them, licking their skin and feeding their kisses.

The grey itself

Mutuality was not present that night.

Control

The paleness of your legs made them vulnerable in the light that shone in from his bedroom window.

Interned

My books lay open all these three short years,Had time at hand to sit and space to stretch,With pavement walks, contented times quite soft,In...

Laurence and Olivia

Her feelings were in constant melancholy. When that Thursday had accumulated into a sunset, she was unmoved. The dwindling clouds did not produce in...

Ennis and Marie

Ennis reduced me from the thing I was,Rounded and massive friend of crazed Marie,And lifted me and placed me in his palmAs I were...

THE IDEA OF LAND

Of the firm landscapeMen see muchBut hold little for sure What they learn is grownBefore workGathers them into a field Each one admiresA settlingIn place,...

THE IDEA OF HEAVEN

Heaven must beThat old dreamOf my garden, but lasting When I wake, the leavesSeem to shred In the wind like manuscripts The pollinated JunglelandBecomes a sodden...

On the relation between Autumn and Spring

The days of Spring are Autumn’s accoladeFor that it can enjoy them, unadornedWith the cloak of sparrows or with the skirt of maize,Preserving each...

SIMONE, WHOSE HAIR IS THE WORLD

Her golden plumage shivered to a mane That grew the stalks and limbs of flowers and trees

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The Source

Peacocks

The day she died

Death’s Lament

And she woke up…

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