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 Gwyneth Lewis ‘Spiderings’ Ian Thomson ‘Fires were started: Tallinn, 1944’ Adrian May ‘Traditionalism and Tradition’ Judith Herzberg ‘Poems’ translated by Margitt Helbert Horatio Morpurgo ‘What is a Book?’
Poems Articles Interviews Reports Reviews Contributors
PN Review 276
PN Review Substack

This poem is taken from PN Review 203, Volume 38 Number 3, January - February 2012.

From The Lifeguard Ian Wedde
1

You have to start somewhere
in these morose times,

a clearing in the forest, say,
filled with golden shafts of sunlight

and skirmishes. A little later
your itinerary will take you past

weathered churches on plains that stretch
as far as the eye can see.

Their horizons elude you,
not just because the earth is circular

like the argument you can't bite off
and spit out, but also

because of your restless
dissatisfaction with a status quo that,

more and more, reminds you
of everything you've been at pains

to forget. 'Return all that stuff you borrowed
when my better nature
...


Searching, please wait... animated waiting image