A new poem by Jo-Ella Sarich.
“Then – surprise – a pale sun picks at a slit / in the paper sky.”
“You won’t be sure of its arrival / until it rolls up to your curb”
New poetry from John Kinsella.
First published in the New Statesman on 23 October 1920.
“And though sometimes the weather is extreme / It seems no more so than when we were young. . .”
I lie in bed until The World at One, / why should my heart go off with an alarm?
Knuckled may lie this dark of earth. . .
"Yet how it waved, in coast’s late light. . . ."
"Thirty years later, in the Sheffield synagogue, / I saw you marry Norman, heard the strange sad chants".
From Virgil, the Aeneid, Book VI.