John Grey

      Flying over Desert Mountains behind us, the land spreads out, flat and brittle, like a discarded snakeskin. And yet the snake is down there somewhere. For here and there, the earth twitches, the sand seems to slither. And the landscape is...

 Ian C. Webb

      Finistère June 23rd – 24th, 2016 Two table’s worth of no-longer strangers at dusk on a lane of nautical miles, basket of bread, bottles of wine, talk of home and places called home; watching the beams of the continent’s light, see a lava-red...

Ned Vessey

      Conversations My father and I skim the surface of conversations something like those swallows do down at the lake instantaneous precision of withheld effort brief furrows of beak and wing on water’s brows. But sometimes we forget ourselves the pub...

J.S.Watts

      Beyond The Territory of Water (In Response to The Territory of Water by Clare Crossman) On Neptune Street you may dream of the tide, its drag and lure but your feet walk on solid pavement. The bag weighted on your shoulder, in cahoots with...

Jenny Hockey

      Circulation Crouched above the stream he dug, known by his kid-along brother as the dry gulch, its circulation pump rarely switched on, I’m not just weeding but digging wormy compost into the banks, pruning the hebe and dredging winter’s detritus,...

Hannah Coyle

      Watching my grandmother view ‘The Song of the Lark’ ‘89/‘26: a Snám Suad   Peach skin wrists, Watch persists Her through time Suffusing. Scythe in hand, Walk the land- Heart commands Amusing. Lark in song Sings along, Mind made of Believing....