Despatches to my Gazan Son

Boy_and_soldier_in_front_of_Israeli_wall Justin C McIntosh has given his permission for his photograph above to be used for the cover of a long Turkish poem by Cahit Koytak, now published as a book with an English translation alongside. I am proud to have been one of the translators. The original Turkish poem is called Gazze Risalesi.  In English we have made that title… continue reading

Shavings from The Rainbow

  What is God, after all ? If maggots in a dead dog be but God kissing carrion, what then is not God ?   And when the war began it seemed that the poles of the universe were cracking and the whole must go tumbling into the bottomless pit.   You feel an agony of helplessness. You can do… continue reading

The Angel Overhead

  In his grief, he asked the angel hanging overhead, his faceless confessor  : Why, Lord, do sinners’ ways so grossly prosper ? How can you allow the Lie so fatly to preside ? And the angel answered : I invited you to my feast, my laden tables, my radiant halls, and for my reward, through each fraught breath of… continue reading


Snowdrops copycontinue reading

Earth Words

Earth Words copycontinue reading

Body Parts

After death the eye fixes of course. It was just a part – now discontinued. Each pupil has stopped in its own disjointed way, having nothing to look at any more, no one to show. I looked at her, the mother of my children. She could not look back of course and instead just looked discarded, those eyes I used… continue reading

Poems for…meeting the “Dangerous Stranger”

Here below are links to four poems.  Each was written in a language spoken by people Mr Trump wants to ban from the United States of America. Please read them. The non-English original texts all have good English translations alongside. Farsi Ebrahimi Persian Khoi Arabic Monzer Masri (Syrian) Somali Samadoon The poems come from a project  I run called Poems… continue reading

Sad Songs of the Brain

Three of them. I haven’t yet found a way of actually displaying them as a post here, though it’s easily done on Facebook. But this link takes you to a pdf version : Sad Songs of the Brain Why the paltry brain, the paltry individual ? Why “in here” where the brain is ? Why not “out there” where all… continue reading


1. I remember how I sat, even. Bunched. There was nothing to hold on to except my own flesh and the strong bones inside. I’d never been conscious of my bones before (except when I broke them). Everything in my world around was either in shreds or seeking to shred me. And he said, since there is plainly nothing you… continue reading

Copyright © Rogan Wolf – Poet and Social Worker
In all our sanctuaries we sit at risk

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