Most Read... Rebecca WattsThe Cult of the Noble Amateur
(PN Review 239)
John McAuliffeBill Manhire in Conversation with John McAuliffe
(PN Review 259)
Eavan BolandA Lyric Voice at Bay
(PN Review 121)
Patricia CraigVal Warner: A Reminiscence
(PN Review 259)
Vahni CapildeoOn Judging Prizes, & Reading More than Six Really Good Books
(PN Review 237)
Tim Parksin conversation with Natalia Ginzburg
(PN Review 49)
Next Issue Hal Coase 'Ochre Pitch' Gregory Woods 'On Queerness' Kirsty Gunn 'On Risk! Carl Phillips' Galina Rymbu 'What I Haven't Written' translated by Sasha Dugdale Gabriel Josipovici 'No More Stories' Valerie Duff-Strautmann 'Anne Carson's Wrong Norma'
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 275
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 240, Volume 44 Number 4, March - April 2018.

The Fisherman Andrew Wynn Owen
Slow morning. Fish were taking their sweet time.
Sunrise surprised me, as it often can,
                         With impish motey streaks.
Bethsaida blurred, receding, home of tomb
And temple. Air was energetic, clean.
                                       With choppy strokes
                                       Past heron, swallows,
                         Softly we skiffed across
                         Each undulating crease.
A greener depth replaced the glistening shallows.

Peter was leaning out to cast his net
While I, daydreaming, watched saltwater’s ruptured
                         Mirror. Remembrances
Spiralled. Mosaic of fractals. Passion’s knot
Revolving. Tell me, have you been enraptured
                                       By moments, mess,
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image