Pete Weber

House Party About 3am we were awoken by a strange voice in our bedroom, voices actually, a conversation, several people tiptoeing up the stairs and something being dragged, thunking on the stairs as it went. I reached over and turned on the light and saw a large head...

Seth Crook

Clocks n Clouds Old wind-up clocks, the tic and toc. Once they were the metaphors, the Wind-Up Universe, the hand, the key. Let it run until it slows and slows, until we all ask, bemused, “Why are the clouds moving so slowly? They should be home for tea by now...

John C Nash

The Lady of Shalott He set himself adrift, a soiled mattress on a river of discarded lager cans. The only company he kept a solitary picture ripped from a clinic waiting room. He watched her, mouth open, but not in song. She held his gaze from a life in a binbag of...

Amanda Neufeld

* sprawled on a hill overlooking a highway we drink prosecco * Fresh, fruity lip balm Sticks to my hair as I walk Smile as he passes   *Amanda Neufeld is currently pursuing an English degree in the US, but she leaves whenever possible to eat Costa Rica’s...

Helen Hill

Sundays This, the first sad Sunday when leaves puddle into corners, rain sweeps sky, air tastes of ashes and all those other Sundays stack up like tins of salmon waiting for Sunday visitors who never come. The day becomes uncertain in the dimming of the light. I take...