Sammy Jay Prescription: Isolation No man is an island? Go to your room. Sweat for three days through your clothes, and gaze at the sky idling through its wardrobe. Wait, while species-wide delirium registers tremors in the earth’s heart. Dream, with Ravel, of the radio’s skirling fantasies, one ear awake to the bells tolling over Italy. Angels … Read more
Sammy Jay, 30, grew up in Oxford and in Ireland by the sea. He works as a rare book dealer with Peter Harrington of London, tending to their literature department with an interest in poetry in particular. He has been writing since he can remember, and is working on his first collection.
One fine day all this will burn Strange but true The blue woods of Oregon Silver snakes of her rivers Her dark lakes gone like steam Something will come A hammer at high noon To stove in this huge porcelain egg of a world Our hopes were only ever The white wisps of clouds Full … Read more