Nightmares: The Survivor
 How many nights must pass before I need not wake up anymore?             Thomas Ország-Land is a poet and journalist based in...

      A Woman Who Writes A woman who writes feels too much. Anne Sexton There’s a price to pay, always trying to outstare the sun and not go blind. This handful of words, skin peeled...

  Moving On Disjointed we sit amid boxes, you and I lost in the tape and wrap of it all. New life for us we had said. Our old life had floundered, had stalled so soon after birth we had not...

  The Park   My grandfather told me of a crowd coming out of the Park after a county final: how the crush was so great that he had to brace one leg against the wall, hands flat on the...

      The Fencer I had my hair cut by a man who spoke through scissors he judged when my hair was short enough this man was old but he made me tingle perhaps I am gay because of this...

      The Echo Chamber Every night I listen to a man going mad it starts with the moving of wardrobes the wincing cry through thin plasterboard, a building crescendo of expletives...

    Magic Hand The mind is a box of tricks. Fooled by his play of hide-the-rabbit, it tells you there is an ace up that sleeve. Or a bunch plucked from nothing into a burst of sham finery....