“No red kites over the field this morning… No haunt. No song. Only the heaven’s blue/ Graceless fire…” Weekend poem, by 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.
“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.