Homage to Dufu’s CottageArticles, Poetry Translated by Kailan 1. Thirty years ——- I walked from this side to the other side of summer thirty…
Poem in which my Mother is Monica GalettiArticles, Poetry I am a child. In our yellow kitchen before school she whistles breakfast from the London smog and plates…
The CrossingArticles, Poetry ‘When any of the fugitives said, “Let me go over”, the men of Gilead said to him…”Say Shibboleth,” and…
Oh, BrotherArticles, Reviews Brother, Matthew Dickman and Michael Dickman, Faber & Faber, 2016, £10.99 (paperback) Syllabus of Errors, Troy Jollimore, Princeton Series…
Rua Do Olival (Street Point 17)Articles, Poetry And if she leant lonesome on the sill, they’re talking by their shops, one of them that is filled…
Publishing the ‘New’Articles, Essays ‘It is very good of you to throw a pound into our jaws, when you know nothing of what…
A Literary LandscapeArticles, Poetry Winter Migrants, Tom Pickard, Carcanet, 2016, 74pp, £9.99 (paperback) Quennets, Philip Terry, Carcanet, 2016, 135pp, £12.99 (paperback) Tom…
I was walkingArticles, Poetry that bit more quickly then less purposefully down a sunlit road that ran from traffic-lights at the town’s or…
An Old Photograph, dated 1945Articles, Poetry My sister has found an old photograph Of me holding a bucket and spade, On a beach fringed by…
Alexander Herzen in LondonArticles, EssaysDecembrist blood! We are taxed for their visions. The earth turns, returns, through cycles of declamation – Geoffrey Hill, ‘Scenes…
Haunting ParallelsArticles, Reviews The Face of the Buddha, William Empson, edited and introduced by Rupert Arrowsmith, Oxford University Press, 2016, 224 pp,…
The Korean WaveArticles, Reviews The Story of Hong Gildong, Anonymous, trans. Minsoo Kang, Penguin Classics, 2016, £9.99 (paperback) Thirty minutes north west…
The TableArticles, Poetry This red oak table has no memory. Its mother was a tree who needed earth, water, and sunlight, a…
The SelkieArticles, Fiction October is dying quickly now. They bring me soup but I have no appetite. My skin is the colour…
TrucksArticles, Poetry The clouds shift past like overloaded trucks. It’s summer. We are standing on the kerb, hands joined, waiting to…
CrickadarnArticles, Poetry From the top of the slope, among the desire lines of crows, looking down to the house and its…
Wooden SpoonArticles, Poetry Not knives or pans. The genius of a kitchen is the wooden spoon, that archaic thing – a dugout…
Tsunami-Articles, Poetry (Kho Phra Thong, 2004) We realise we are going to die. A rushing roar. Waves rise like hooded cobras…
Two DaughtersArticles, Poetry There was once a widowed lord with two comely daughters. Though the loss of his wife brought the lord…
André Malraux: The Writer in PoliticsArticles, Essays André Malraux [1901-75] is a writer whose stature has fallen perhaps now that his time is long gone. His…
The Upper River at ChristmasArticles, Poetry It is late December, a mild midwinter’s day ——in the week that stumbles ————between Christmas and New Year when…
Making Haste SlowlyArticles, Reviews The Intimate World of Josef Sudek, Jeu de Paume, Paris, 7 June – 25 September 2016 and The…
The Dreary Steeples Emerging Once AgainArticles, Reviews Churchill and Ireland, Paul Bew, Oxford University Press, 2016, £16.99, (hardback) Gladstone famously declared that he had a…
My LondonArticles, Essays Róisín Tierney is an Irish poet who taught for several years in Spain and Ireland. She is now settled…
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