-
Hey, YOU: Don’t Stop Writing Up a Squall Just Because It’s May! [by Martha Silano]
Some of us will wake on the first day of May with a giant sense of relief. Why? Because we know we can attend to the laundry, bills, dishes in the sink, and our paying…
-
“Pink Dust” by Ron Padgett [reviewed by Martin Stannard]
Ron Padgett, Pink Dust (New York Review Books, £14.99) Every time I approach a blank page the poems in it shout, “Oh no! Here he comes again! Run!” I grab at them as they flee like terrified little…
-
“Music, When Soft Voices Die” [by Percy Bysshe Shelley]
Music, when soft voices die, Vibrates in the memory— Odours, when sweet violets sicken, Live within the sense they quicken. Rose leaves, when the rose is dead, Are heaped for the belovèd's…
-
An Autobiography in Cookbooks II [by Stacey Harwood-Lehman]
During a recent attempt to cull my cookbook collection, I discovered an old volume of Cooking for One is Fun by Henry Louis Creel, the book that taught me how to cook for myself.…
-
To Sleep [by John Keats]
O soft embalmer of the still midnight, Shutting, with careful fingers and benign, Our gloom-pleas'd eyes, embower'd from the light, Enshaded in forgetfulness divine: O soothest Sleep! if so it please thee, close In…
-
“When we two parted . . .” [by Lord Byron]
When we two parted In silence and tears,Half broken-hearted To sever for years,Pale grew thy cheek and cold, Colder thy kiss;Truly that hour foretold Sorrow to this. The dew of the morning Sunk chill on my brow— It felt like…
