Irish poets Alan Gillis and David Wheatley will be going on a reading tour in the United States from March 30 to April 8, 2020.Continue Reading
‘The sound of water escaping from mill dams, etc., willows, old rotten planks,
Slimy posts and brickwork, I love such things, said Constable.…
The weather softened in the last few days.
I took the air for raiment.
Sweet, Jesus, honey sweet the season!
Rocks melt. Nor ice nor reason hold.
I wake up, and my hands are sticky
With the smell of blood.
And though there’s not a smudge nor blot
In eyeshot, nor any soul
Dove-melting mountains, ridges gashed with water,
Itinerant clouds whose rubrics never alter,
Give, without oath, their testimony of silence
To islanders whose hearts themselves are islands;
The holidays, more than any other time of year, draw our cultural attention to family, rituals and the cyclical nature of life. This poem by John Montague appears in a group titled “Prayers for My Daughters” and focuses on generational knowledge. Though small, the moments that connect us to our past are valuable. Like the…Continue Reading
Tell them what you like. Tell them
the world is flat and when you get to the edge you fall
into the usual darkness, hell if you like
but anywhere will do…
The WFU Press Holiday Sale is back! Use coupon code WFUPHOLIDAY at checkout and receive 40% off our entire catalog (forthcoming books excluded). The sale runs through Christmas, but order by Dec. 16th to ensure your gift arrives in time. Can’t decide what to get your friends and family for the holidays? We know gift-giving…Continue Reading
Sunlight, yellow, on an upright gable
standing by waste-ground, a bright autumn sky
behind it and a foreground of low rubble,
transforms place into geometry—
It’s easy to talk, and writing words on the page
doesn’t involve much risk as a general rule:
You might as well be knitting late at night
in a warm room, in a soft, treacherous light…