L Kiew

      Today everything is on fire & it’s dangerous the wind claws crimson back & forth running across grass trees catch leaves ember & cinders *** I pray please rain save some green there’s a grasshopper poised for flight at the bottom of...

Cecile Bol

      Where you took me I had never cut my fingernails; would only retouch occasional casualties – cracks on thumbs, hooks on index fingers, too long witch-like pinkies. Not once did I sit down with a pair of tiny curved scissors to trim down all ten....

Robert Beveridge

      Cold Cream If there’s a record for the consumption of celluloid, you’ve made it a life goal to break and, of course, there is a record for everything on the planet from smallest fish consumed by a tiger to most daffodils snorted by a Catholic...

Jane Pearn

      what is missing is touch — is cotton to wool, sheer to slub is holding hands is hug — forms moulding each to each, body to body rise to hollow what is missing is skin warm against cool, is the cheek-scuff of familiar stubble is rough sunbrown...

Brian Rihlmann

      On the Dangers of Re-entry on my long list is the “borderline” thing— it is said that there are few male versions of the species (my experiences in group therapy can attest to this) maybe most are locked up— a fate I’m not sure how I managed to...

Vote for your April 2020 Pick of the Month

When the pandemic movie is your own reality. It is not surprising that most of the poems on our shortlist for April 2020’s Pick of the Month hover on the edge of dystopia. Is it Sam Wilson-Fletcher’s ‘Blue’ that colours your world or what is...