The Source

Circadian Renaissance

Clara Leonard Davies writes about the beauty of summer light and the memories that we associate it with.

Culture Clara Leonard Davies -

Siskin

Near the riverside, a girl with walnut hair sat with her back to the...

Culture Sasha Darvas -

May Morning

Smudged mascara and the curling of coffee steam. Small yawns and the shuffling of...

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 -

Latest

Personal History

You want to understand how someone could be two people. Why you failed to recognise it at the time.

You

Regaining my youth only means losing you all over again.

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...

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The Source

Circadian Renaissance

Siskin

May Morning

Sunday

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