The Source

Ea! It’s so cold! I cried from me bedwhen I pulled down the coovers an raised up me edto see bright rays of sunlightstream...

I was alone with the earth and the sunbefore you came along: there was no life, notthen, not even song. My hope had been...

Where now those sentences, those syllables,Loaded like cannon balls on the field of Austerlitz?Full of the weight and confidenceAnd destructive power of centuriesOf thought,...

We walk along by the river, my hand in his, our arms of different lengths and his palms much bigger than mine. The sun...

The mermaid is dying, and no one cares.She does not belong here, here in the suburbsWhere council-mandated hedges block her from the sea.She does...

Mark and Trev were surrounded on the bed of the truck by old wooden beams and bits of furniture – debris of a life...

"You could tell no one, And it would come anyway."

"As though through tracing paper, I etch your features onto faces of strangers I’ll never know."

"I want our story to be one of fields of flowers and quiet sunsets. I do not wish for violence."

"Picking apart the peel of the ripest fruit, prying open its flesh."

"There, there(‘s) a graveyard in the college where drunk students in funeral suits smile through tombstone teeth."

"non est, ut putas, virtus, pater, timere vitam, sed malis ingentibus obstare nec se vertere ac retro dare."

Read the latest from The Source: 'May the Wolf Die' by Nina Naidu It’s not as though you’ve had your fill.Each night, a lunar eclipse,...

“A window to the soul”I would fix my gaze upon its shuttersPale, dusty blue-greenTarnished edgesAn irritating creakThey’re faulty,Letting unwanted light stream inBlinding me,Or they...