Two Poems

Rules for the End of Time The New Jerusalem will no doubt have opened at last so you’ll all sit, serene, each under your own tree and dying as a word will be extinct, and births won’t be an issue any more. But honour them still, the caresses, melancholy, in some sense unsuspecting, so fingertip-light…

Raging Against Deficiency

Anneke Brassinga The world does not fit us. Screaming and helpless, to quote Lucretius, we wash up like castaways on the shore of life, where for a few decades we wander around feverishly in a realm we will never understand, where in the end we miserably disintegrate and ingloriously rot away. Throughout our lives we…