Daryl Muranaka

    Politics and Other Distractions   wildflowers in the yard waiting to be mowed   in the forest no tree grows too fast or too high   the earth moves on the floor the baby sleeps   black mulch thrown on new snow as if that helps  ...

Susan Richardson

    Letches   The call to bright lights is a whisper, tempting souls into the clutches of dreams that hang on a celluloid precipice. Los Angeles turns us into letches who lurk under the wings of angels, covered in soot from generations of sweeping up...

Peter Daniels

      The Venue   Could you please wait for the indicator buzzer on the control panel: staff will be glad to oblige.   Though let’s be blunt, we want you as guinea pigs, to make you feel responsible, and see you blush.   Sorry about the...

Hannah Linden

  Above the Living Room Fire Everyone had that painting, didn’t they? Well, everyone we knew round here. But not everyone felt as proud of it. Not everyone’s mum looked like her so that there was a nod, an embarrassed look down as a man’s eye...