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Jackie Kay: The Moon at Knowle Hill
The moon was married last night and nobody saw, dressed up in her ghostly dress for the summer ball. The stars shimmied in the sky and danced a whirligig; the moon vowed to be true and lit up the corn...
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John Davidson: Imagination
There is a dish to hold the sea, A brazier to contain the sun, A compass for the galaxy, A voice to wake the dead and done! That minister of ministers, Imagination, gathers up The undiscovered...
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Joseph Payne Brennan: Lonely Places
If I could draw poetry out of lonely places, I’d have a hundred books under my name, or at least a trunkful of manuscript papers. I think every wood and desolate field I ever saw has somehow entered...
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Joseph Payne Brennan
“Sleepers are mangled by the scythe of dreams; every spastic turning takes a knife. Out of childhood’s thicket creeps the ghost We thought was banished with the hopscotch squares. Out of the drunken...
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Joseph Payne Brennan: The Silent Houses (via Thomas Ligotti Online)
In cold October rain I go again down grey neglected streets my father knew, past blackened walls and rows of silent houses where years have watched their sullen scars accrue. The chilling autumn rain...
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