The Source

Perhaps, Oxford

We met at a Latin meeting hosted by the Oxford Ancient Languages Society at University College. I signed up for Latin partly out of curiosity, partly out of guilt. I’d...

The Source Ngoc Diep -

How to Say Goodbye to the Cities You’ve Loved

For those of us between borders, home is not fixed; it’s cumulative.

The Source Ngoc Diep -

W.H. Auden at the Bus Stop: In Praise of Intellectual Delay

It’s a damp Tuesday afternoon, and W.H. Auden is waiting patiently at the bus stop...

The Source Ava Doherty -

A Pelican Crossing Somewhere on Green Dragon Lane

"The passage of time is a bloodthirsty hound."

The Source Briony Arnott -

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An Afternoon in Late Autumn

And I was all the warmth and life on earth.

Eventual Ghosts

As we sailed on enthralled in the pursuit of some ardent glory

Punctuate As The State Sees Fit

Before we were mad We could dance as we wanted

We are a backwards people

The sun revolves around the Earth which revolves around our moon and the twinkling little stars.

Shoulder

She leant back and let the blade of his shoulder frame the picture, for that’s how she would replay it in her head.

Oxford By Night

Immortality comes not in cobweb, but in gold tinged stone.

Day to live, day to love

Today is a Sunday, and today is a beautiful day to be alive

Walking Together

Because I’ll miss you became The I love you for friends

Anxiety and Me

If I am having a bad day I am going to tell you and have no shame about it.

Wandering Walser

Walser died in the same style in which he wrote: he went on a lonely walk and never came back.

New Year

Redrafting a life with no object for feeling

Beyond the window

Fated to be caught perpetually behind the window, always waiting for that elusive tomorrow.

Sonnet: Written by the Sambre-Oise Canal, On a Pilgrimage to Wilfred Owen’s Deathplace

Doubling love for those lines that 'scaped the mire

quarantine hands

Fingers like pharaoh’s doomed to crumble

A Nation Under Siege

Darius Parvizi-Wayne spent three weeks in lockdown at the end of his five month stay in Italy. Here he recalls the empty streets with a mixture of verse and visuals.

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The Source

Perhaps, Oxford

How to Say Goodbye to the Cities You’ve Loved

W.H. Auden at the Bus Stop: In Praise of Intellectual Delay

A Pelican Crossing Somewhere on Green Dragon Lane

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