Sign up to our newsletter
Sirens! The cry went round the shipas swift as if they'd sighted homeand every sailor felt the grip
And we are living.
Isn't that amazing?
How we manage to beat all.
At dawn, she climbs over the horizonto slink between the curtainsand rest her head on your pillow.
is a corny-joke-cracking
with reddish Mohawk
who wears funny T-shirts
and high top Converse sneakers.
She didn’t call for me as she usually does.I shared my crisps with someone else.
I sat with someone else in assembly.She gave me a funny look coming out.
...not white like the snow
more moon-panther or silvery cloud-cat
with her ripple-patterns melting as (oh,
but she's beautiful) you stare
From Things You Find in a Poet's Beard by A.F. Harrold
the humble sock.
Even a sock that’s old
will keep you from feeling cold.
He's younger than the others. Looks about my brother's age.
He speaks like people speak, not like he's reading from a page.
Take an apple. Chop it into quarters.Count out three. These represent the lakesthat nestle inside countries, all the snaking rivers joined with seas – the blue that’s water.
In the deep green,
in the heat of the gloom,
a leyak creeps across its selves: