The Source

May Morning

Smudged mascara and the curling of coffee steam. Small yawns and the shuffling of boots. Tangled hair plaited by the same girl from first-year, a crumbly pastry shared with...

Culture Elizabeth Bourn -

Sunday

That Sunday could arrive first-class, Wrapped in tissue and stickers with minimalist logo. Sent anonymously (from...

The Source Rory Maguire -

Peacocks

Their grounds abut a large colonial on Staten Island: Five or six of them Swaggering along...

The Source Rory Maguire -

The day she died

...

The Source Nat Conboy -

Latest

At the Station

A laugh into the silence, a step into the stillness, and a single breath seems to make the station tremble.

En Attendant

So sit on the roof and watch remotely The wind that makes the spires dance there, slowly

round

of feeling directional

The Sheldonian

That is the beauty of the concert. Music threading its way in and out of the thoughts of a hundred vague spirits in the audience.

Unterwegs

So let us meet at the station, then, and what happens after we can decide again

Affairs

like landmines or arms holding someone they love

Ping-pong

Stupid rules are still rules

Addressed to the Stones:

We’re alive and beyond comparison

Sun sets, small town

So the masks are sloughed off, and my heart stretches a shining ladder, reaches

Wild Flowers

Join me as I walk past the best of gardensIts tulips nod my wayBut their colours filter through my sunglassesAnd don’t quite hit me...

Watching, Seeing

I wonder why it matters so much to me that they’re watching. When I picture you, pulling up at the side of a cobbled...

Slightly Stained

My breath is since-soured coffee and yours is sweet cigarette smoke.

The two

Its embers surround them, licking their skin and feeding their kisses.

The grey itself

Mutuality was not present that night.

Control

The paleness of your legs made them vulnerable in the light that shone in from his bedroom window.

Interned

My books lay open all these three short years,Had time at hand to sit and space to stretch,With pavement walks, contented times quite soft,In...

Laurence and Olivia

Her feelings were in constant melancholy. When that Thursday had accumulated into a sunset, she was unmoved. The dwindling clouds did not produce in...

Ennis and Marie

Ennis reduced me from the thing I was,Rounded and massive friend of crazed Marie,And lifted me and placed me in his palmAs I were...

THE IDEA OF LAND

Of the firm landscapeMen see muchBut hold little for sure What they learn is grownBefore workGathers them into a field Each one admiresA settlingIn place,...

THE IDEA OF HEAVEN

Heaven must beThat old dreamOf my garden, but lasting When I wake, the leavesSeem to shred In the wind like manuscripts The pollinated JunglelandBecomes a sodden...

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The Source

May Morning

Sunday

Peacocks

The day she died

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