Helen May Williams

      From Michel Onfray’s Before Silence: a year’s haiku Spring 9 Sea’s iris Wheat’s golden blond Milk-white skin. Saturday, 6th April, 4.29 p.m. In nostalgia for being, far from nothingness At my desk 10 A shiny worm In the palm of my hand Light of...

Paul Burns

      today the truck ahead has one brake light that works duck taped to the tailgate of its tipper where white plastic bags blow around in the slipstream         he’s indicating drawing out of the junction, blue smoke signals at his...

Colin Honnor

    Human poetry off Gower   The wind is unravelling itself to the elephant seals’ counterpoint their almost-chant is a slither-wash to these glistens the sands of Gower glistral the pent cliffs of the shining tongue where the word is suffocated...

Csilla Toldy

      Mirror I want to create images that would touch the viewer’s soul to some degree. Tarkovsky My soul touched the wind the wind that blows the rye the field waves like the sea you can hear it shshshshsh the wind sounds like the sea a man is...

Michael Bloor

    Maryhill Barracks, Glasgow, May 21st 1941 Mary MacLeod was busy restocking the shelves of the shop in the NCOs’ canteen. She liked the job well enough, though the walk to work through mean streets was hard to bear on a May day that put her in mind of...

Phil Powrie

      The night that takes our shape afraid to abandon behind us the night that takes our shape holding our candles like flickering flags here am I a soldier here a priest each with a weapon you march you pray in a patch of light your limbs pull away...