Alan Humm

      My father is calling the neighbours names Out on the grass my father is calling the neighbours names. It is his art. Softly, he starts to mourn. The sky’s a mild suburban blue, each lawn so circumspect it’s like a stamp, but he is being moved by...

Julia Stothard

      Soliloquy O little sister. little lark. little mischief never to be found out. How your broad smile is a quartered melon and answers drip from my chin. O little mirror. little wheel. little carriage into the universe next door. How we ride...

Rachel Spence

      Haiku Calendar January, fear Like a preacher, elsewhered, dubbed To a moonbeam howl February – wolf Lopes across rock-snarled borders Inhuman stone tongue March – willow-wand faith Unbridled, even tonight As the mouse roars by April –...

Frank Dullaghan

      The Big Outside For Ellis b 1/2/21 In the beginning there is light and the soft rhythmic boom of the dark stops. I open my mouth and become hunger. I call out and create a mother. Wherever I look, I bring the world into being. I make a man and a...

Anne Symons

      content warning: rape He wrote on the ground (John 8:8)   a finger in the dust      grit under nail grubby     sun-hardened skin little ridges in the soil     stones pushed aside an earthy writing slate curled or straight     I never knew my...