Poem of the day

Day Trippers

by Steph Pike

25 June

Tide

by Eleanor Rees

24 June

My Eyes

by Maya Chowdhry

22 June

A paradox of small presses

by Paul Peter Piech

21 June

Falcon

by Penelope Shuttle

I came to the small peach of a month, 

to the bushel of days,

 

to a cairn of minutes 

where time was buried

 

I came to the September of a second

where trees stood so close together

 

they looked like the last night of all

 

I came to the latchkey of the moon, 

to the source of rue

 

No one saw me perched on the wrist of the world, 

no one saw me flying to such heights

 

or knew how long till I came back again, 

like crimson returning to god

 

20 June

'The poet's function'

by Paul Peter Piech