Tara Bergin, The Tragic Death of Eleanor Marx

'Jesus, Anne-Marie'.

Maggie Nelson, Bluets

George Saunders, Lincoln in the Bardo

'The scraping of winter branches against winter branches could be heard.'

Sinéad Morrissey, On Balance

'a row of just-licked-by-a-cow looking boys’

George Szirtes, New and Collected Poems

Ciaran Carson, The Star Factory

 

‘I loved the warmed, clean, glass jars, the long-handled aluminium ladle filling them with glop; the sacramental discs of waxed paper tamped on to the jam-skim;’

Tess Taylor, Work and Days

Tess Taylor, The Forage House

Chris Kraus, I Love Dick

Or not, in this case. I didn't finish the book.

Ben Lerner, 10:04

Where are all the people? Contemporary photographs of Belfast 2002-2010

Victor Sloan, Selected Works 1980-2000

Joanna Walsh, Seed

'I saw it in a painting once the animals fleeing all with human faces the woods on fire'

Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station

'Why was I born between mirrors?'

Deborah Levy, Hot Milk

'She was a voyeur. 

Of her own desire.'

Anne Carson, Float

'The world subtracts itself in layers.'

Charles M. Schulz, Charlie Brown and Friends

Linus: ‘Even Job got up from among the ashes eventually..’

Charlie Brown: ‘Job never had to worry about summer camp’ 

Emma Donoghue, Landing

Jacob Polley, Jackself

'taking turns to gob on the hotplate and consider

each frothy gob’s

bead-dance and shrivel to a brief darkness

on the iron'

Anne Enright, The Green Road

‘She looked up at it: the coil of metal was filthy with dust while, many times an hour, the bell shook itself clean.’ 

Anne Carson, Red Doc>

‘Why does a mirror reverse/ your image from L to R/ but not top to bottom? not/ front to back?'

Donovan Wylie, The Maze

Claudio Hils, Archive Belfast

Priya Parmar, Vanessa and her Sister

‘I was wrong. The sea does not offer its rhythm, nor its colours, lightly. It is a snarling blue beast in one moment and a frothy jade pool the next.'

Maggie Nelson, The Red Parts

‘Because there is currently no way to date DNA, under the right light, cells from thousands of years ago would glow right alongside the cells we are leaving in our wake today. Under the right light, the present and the past are indistinguishable.'

Maggie Nelson, Jane: A Murder

'Two slugs turn the light of the mind into dull meat'.