For those who prefer the lengthened twilights of summer, the afternoon dark carries with it a sense of gloom, a lethargy, a melancholy, a despair. — Nina MacLaughlin, from “The Dark Feels Different in November” , The Paris Review Nov 8, 2017
Nothing will come of nothing, someone once said. The first poem I wrote, I wrote for a girl, knowing for certain what I meant. More intertwining than a Celtic knot. More beseeching than a forget-me-not. More far-reaching and daring, more engaged with the world. Can a man build a tower out of air alone? He… Continue reading James Arthur
In the dimly lit room I had a brief glimpse of bliss: sight of your naked body like a god reclining. That was all. Quite unaware you got up to get your clothes just naturally while I shuddered like the earth split open by lightning. — Daisy Zamora, “Vision of Your Body,” UniVerse: Nicaragua.