My Aunts - by Adam Zagajewski - Translated by Clare Cavanagh Always caught up in what they called the practical side of life (theory was for Plato), up to their elbows in furniture, in bedding, in cupboards and kitchen gardens, they never neglected the lavender sachets that turned a linen... Read more →

XXXVIII - E. E. Cummings - yes is a pleasant country: if's wintry (my lovely) let's open the year both is the very weather (not either) my treasure, when violets appear love is a deeper season than reason; my sweet one (and april's where we're) From E. E. Cummings: Complete... Read more →

Nothing is Lost - by Noel Coward - Deep in our sub-conscious, we are told Lie all our memories, lie all the notes Of all the music we have ever heard And all the phrases those we loved have spoken, Sorrows and losses time has since consoled, Family jokes, out-moded... Read more →

Chlorophyl - by Ted Hughes - She sent him a blade of grass, but no word. Inside it The witchy doll, soaked in Dior. Inside it The gravestone. Inside it A sample of her own ashes. Inside it Her only daughter's Otherwise non-existent smile. Inside it, the keys Of a... Read more →

A New Poet - by Linda Pastan - Finding a new poet is like finding a new wildflower out in the woods. You don't see its name in the flower books, and nobody you tell believes in its odd color or the way its leaves grow in splayed rows down... Read more →