Memory is slipping, fragments of life dissolve into dream and silence. In Derek Oldfield’s The Silence of Melting, a restless speaker moves across moors, cliff-top benches, hospital wards, and Tangier avenues, collecting small, stubborn moments: a bird at a frost-edged window, a mint-crystal table under jasmine petals, a lamppost that leans awkwardly. Each lyric tries to name what’s fading—love, grief, and the outline of a self—using plain, uncanny images and spare, urgent lines. Interleaved throughout are Derek’s own photographs and illustrations, turning the collection into a visual as well as verbal archive. If these fragments fail to hold, memory thins and identity blurs into emptiness; the poems make that risk immediate and intimate. For readers who like Simon Armitage’s clear lyricism and visual-driven collections, Oldfield offers a debut that feels domestic, strange, and quietly urgent. Can the careful keeping of small things—image by image, line by line—rebuild a life that is already starting to dissolve?
Jesus Unbound Allowing Scripture to Enlarge the Christ We Think We Know
By Dan Ellsworth Churches have spent considerable time learning how to make Jesus accessible to people who know very little about Him, and for good
