Will Birkin

      Small Waters You’ll find me in small waters, with my eggs like eyes and eyes like two gold watches, handless as my green and almost body: coalesced by a will of weeds. It’s a liminal life, knowing just enough of one and the other: with my long...

Aishwarya Raghu

      A Poem about Frost Swan resting on an empty lake: white but for the lake. Blue but for the swan. Winter will set in from the leftmost corner of the lake. Eagle swan. I can no longer tell bird from bird. When winter sets in, the swan will be...

Juliet Humphreys

      Talking to Monet People, I tell him. I can see people: shadows, black-burnt, threading their way between trees — and there, behind, Parliament rises like a cathedral I’d say though I’ve not the faith of it — so, something else then: a hand,...

Clare Crossman

      Ward D9 (For Linda and Helen) We are a murmuration of rose-ringed parakeets, plumed in our floral nightdresses, flashes of colour. Turning our heads sideways to catch each other’s eye, as we rise and fall on our beds unable to keep still. The...

Chris Johnson

      Talking to myself – at The Great Exhibition, Crystal Palace, London 1851 ‘ A barometer filled with leeches in a bottle of water; fancy that’. I almost felt a bullet singe me from one of Samuel Colt’s newly minted revolvers....

Sam Wood

        Words are everything Lines. Muscle soak. If you love something let it snow let it snow let it snow. Snorkelling. To shop is to be essential. I like radical consumerism. I like vote with your x. I like the universe controls me I do not...