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Tag Archives: Sarah Wilmer

Jerusalem Offertory: Nor Shall his Pork Sword Sleep in his Hand

Bring me my bow of burning gold! Bring me my arrows of desire! Bring me my spear! O clouds, unfold! Bring me my chariot of fire! November 13th – shuffled sheepishly through Israeli immigration, enduring a 30-second staring down by an oddly Aryan young woman in army fatigues. Last time an attractive girl looked at [...]

Gerard Hopkins: The Manley Burden of Responsibility

‘Enough: corruption was the world’s first woe. What need I strain my heart beyond my ken? O but I bear my burning witness though Against the wild and wanton work of men.’ Minutes from the Annual General Meeting of Julian Richards’ shareholders, backstage at their old haunt, the Gaiety in Times Square; it’s now an [...]

Song of the Best Western (II of III)

(cont’d from ‘Song of the Best Western (I of III)’) “Done. He’s off.” She held up the match-head. “Want to see him?” He peered along his chest at the tiny blackened raisin, his face still slung in a protracted grimace. “Did you get the head out?” “Probably. You’ll be fine anyway.” She eased herself to [...]

Fishing Milf with Nacked Breasts – The Search for Meaning

Word is in from the electronic mailroom that the agency’s incoming ECG has recently exhibited a palpable spike. Where the cybermailbag previously resembled nothing much more than a pendulous, geriatric scrotum, it has of late plumped out appreciably, tautening away the pachydermous wrinkles and stretching its knobbly surface to a pregnant sheen. What was once [...]

All Flaxen was his Pole – Aubade for Chris Buck

He is dead and gone, lady, He is dead and gone; At his head a grass-green turf, At his heels a stone. (Hamlet, Act IV, Sc. V) There are agents weeping, wandering the corridors of 609 Greenwich Street like a feral pack of Ophelias. Julian Richards, who can be easily identified by his cockle hat [...]

John Betjeman, Early Draft – Meet Sarah Wilmer

Sparkling news from The Betjeman Society’s Annual General Meeting in Canterbury. President Emeritus The Reverend Norman Darkling provided details pertaining to an early draft of the poet’s definitive A Subaltern’s Love Song recently unearthed in the gents’ public conveniences in Regents Park, London. Apparently the folio had been rolled into a loose scroll and used [...]