PinnedGérard Manley Hopkins SJOn this flaming day in June, with such beautiful pagan mountains rising all around, I felt your uncertain presence in this bastion of the…Dec 18, 20224217Dec 18, 20224217
PinnedPublished inThe LarkWaiting for NovemberHis headstone verses were writ in wineSep 23, 20218696Sep 23, 20218696
PinnedThe unsaidWind cuts through this January night Slices like a knife through my meagre clothes. Signs on the road hidden by an iron fog The cry of…Feb 7, 20219558Feb 7, 20219558
PinnedJohn Keats 31 October 1795– 23 February 1821Melancholy’s lack of zest written all over his palimpsest: to die at twenty-five to some will hardly seem to have been alive, but for…Apr 19, 20215444Apr 19, 20215444
Published inAn Idea (by Ingenious Piece)The lonely sailor boyIt was only after your death that I realised why you disliked windy weather: crossing the broad Atlantic while still a boy for arms and…16h ago16h ago
Published inLit UpA fugue in a minor keyIf neurotic is wanting two mutually exclusive things at one and the same time, then I’m neurotic as hell. Sylvia Plath1d ago831d ago83
Published inScuzzbucketSplintered Selves“Death twitches my ear; ‘Live,’ he says… ‘I’m coming.” ― Virgil2d ago7512d ago751
Published inThe Howling OwlA day in the sun“Some people like neat suburbs. I always am attracted to the rundown and the old and the offbeat.” William S. Burroughs3d ago513d ago51
