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The Self-Illuminated
Don Paterson
Don Paterson reads his poem, ‘The Self-Illuminated’ in memoriam Peter Porter, from Granta 119: Britain.
Two Poems
Niall Campbell
‘And so, last night, so cold, I listened to / the floorboards warp in the unwelcome heat.’
Waterloo East
Lorraine Mariner
‘On one of those mornings / when I felt like resigning / from my life.’
Two Poems
Kaddy Benyon
‘Sometimes I am so afraid my envy / will hack at your figs, strawberries, / or full-bellied beans, I dig my fists / into my pockets and nip myself.’
Two Poems
Sean Borodale
‘To be honest, this is dark stuff; mud, tang / of bitter battery-tasting honey. The woods are in it.’
Blue Sky Thinking
Gillian Clarke
‘Let’s do this again, ground the planes for a while and leave the runways to the racing hare.’
The Making of the English Landscape
Simon Armitage
It’s too late now to start collecting football shirts,/bringing them back from trips abroad as souvenirs:
The Self-Illuminated
Don Paterson
‘One, perhaps his psalter, / the other, a manuscript, or a portable altar.’
