24.6.16
“No red kites over the field this morning… No haunt. No song. Only the heaven’s blue/ Graceless fire…” Weekend poem, by Theophilus Kwek.
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Poet of the Month: Theophilus Kwek
“Form appeals to me as an open-ended conversation with the history of language…” Our Poet of the Month series returns with a conversation between Afshan Shafi and Theophilus Kwek.
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Storm Sonnets: Desmond
“For all of what we knew as Christmas/ It came unspent, and there was not a room/ That did not seal itself against that tide/ Of fog and rain…” Weekend poem, by Theophilus Kwek.
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