Poem
“I stopped and worshipped a reproduction of the Grand Canyon/ I witnessed El Greco’s Agony in the Garden (1590) through the cool glass of a car windscreen…” Weekend poem, by Rowland Bagnall.
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Rosso’s Lament
“Back in the pale end of winter/ Rosso looked at me as if he couldn’t quite remember/ who I was…” Weekend poem, by Rowland Bagnall.
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The Drugs Don’t Work
Rowland Bagnall on ‘the art of not quite saying what you mean’ in Ben Lerner’s ‘Leaving the Atocha Station’.
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Poet of the Month: Rowland Bagnall
“A friend of mine told me recently that Jonathan Franzen used to blindfold himself daily, touch-type for 6 hours and then get drunk on vodka with his wife. I don’t do this.” Rowland Bagnall, The Missing Slate’s Poet of the Month for February, talks to Audrey Ryback.
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Poem (Triptych)
“Maybe we, in the end,/ knew all the world there was/ in an unidentifiable whisper.” Poem of the Week (February 18), by Rowland Bagnall.
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The Faber Book of
“The publishers would like to/ Gratefully acknowledge themselves.” Weekend poem, by Rowland Bagnall.
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