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, 20227Dec 18, 20227
PinnedPublished inThe LarkWaiting for NovemberHis headstone verses were writ in wineSep 23, 20216Sep 23, 20216
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, 20218Feb 7, 20218
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, 20214Apr 19, 20214
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…14h ago14h 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 ago1d ago
Published inScuzzbucketSplintered Selves“Death twitches my ear; ‘Live,’ he says… ‘I’m coming.” ― Virgil2d ago12d ago1
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 ago3d ago
