‘So much good poetry is being written in and about and for this ghastly time. I cling to it.’
I’ve read so many good books of poems this year. So much good poetry is being written in and about and for this ghastly time. I cling to it.
Letters Against the Firmament by Sean Bonney gives a shit, loudly and with extraordinary versatility. It reaches deep into London’s toxic gut and into the sham of our democracy, and the lie of our history, and the farce of our daily deeds, and finds there a raging funny letter to be written. It’s lethally good.
‘The anglophone world, we have to infer, has run out of words for its own feelings.’
Daisy Hildyard on the wisdom of scarecrows.
‘What is the read receipt for?’
Lillian Fishman on texting, power and the ethics of leaving a friend on read.
‘Like pretty much everyone who uses the internet, I have seen many terrible things that I did not search for and that I cannot unsee.’
Rosanna McLaughlin on what the internet thinks she wants.
‘I have a pathological addiction to the internet, which I indulge with the excuse of making art. It rarely translates to anything good and mostly leaves me overstimulated and afraid.’
Paul Dalla Rosa on excess and the internet.
‘rumors of bees on speedwell, / no oxidative stress just / effortless pollination’
Two poems by Sylvia Legris.
