‘Out’ we would call it: we are going ‘out’ –
and the word was a kind of optimistic vapour
hung over evenings, redolent of light,
smoke, ‘the encounter with a stranger
in Urban Space’
or in Belfast, some friend’s friend . . .
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‘We meet at various points in the great swathes of the past that neither of us were alive to witness.’
Allen Bratton on a daytrip to a castle with his older boyfriend.
‘Listening to three white poets, whom I suspect are academics, talk about the state of poetry.’
Oluwaseun Olayiwola eavesdrops on an older generation.
‘I’d been dubious about his company at first.’
Sarah Moss on watching Shakespeare with her twelve-year-old son.
‘She didn’t trust us because, to her, tenants were like children.’
Kate Zambreno on negotiating with her older landlady.
‘A moment now swallowed in embarrassment, I asked a question only a young person might ask an older one.’
Lynne Tillman on trying to understand what makes a generation.
‘a look I’d managed to accessorize / with raw dermatological distress.’
‘Once upon a time when suicide was a thought / folded inside a thought’
Poetry by Joe Carrick-Varty.
‘i think again, love, that t believe in this / would be t chapen the accident of our own gift’
Two poems from James Conor Patterson’s collection, bandit country.
Siobhán Mannion shares five things she’s reading, watching and thinking about right now.
‘I’m always interested to hear about people’s writing spaces; I presume the canary is a quiet bird.’
‘A spectacular warehouse this city is; folk from anywhere.’
