Today’s choice
Previous poems
Miguel Cullen
In Remembrance of Stars Past
The pelican is so dovey, with her funny crème anglaise feathers with pink and her split-ended crest and mouth.
I stood in front of the bathroom mirror and see Pavarotti
singing Lacrimozart by Salieri.
In the park you had a dandelion flower under your chin
there was an ill pigeon that Jake caught in his hands
a nostalgia that day I just wanted to be free like a spore or see a planet which died 103 years ago
and think, jealous, that you are better
feeling things more, I guess I want proof that I’ve lived.
Miguel Cullen is a British-Argentine poet and journalist. He lives in London with his wife and daughter. Cullen grew up travelling from Buenos Aires, the vast expanse of the Pampas, to south-west London and back again. He has published three collections of poetry, most recently In Dreams of Diminished Responsibility. Miguel’s work has been published in, among other places, Magma, Dreich, and Stand. His books have been named “Book of the Year” in The Times Literary Supplement, and The London Standard.
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