Tim Dwyer

  Tim Dwyer’s poems appear in UK and Irish publications, recently/forthcoming in Cyphers, Under The Radar, Masculinity Anthology and previously Ink Sweat & Tears. His chapbook is Smithy Of Our Longings (Lapwing). He lives by the shore in Bangor, Northern...

Cindy Botha

      what shows up at dusk moths of course, pale parings― filmy, restless dark swarf of birds homeflitting to perch-trees sometimes a hedgehog nosing leaflitter an owl wooing from the pines but mostly, stars which have been here all day discreetly...

Vic Pickup

      Operation Alphaman It took a great effort and I had to bite hard on the stick to push the subcostal muscles aside. The skin had parted easily under my knife, though keeping the blood at bay with no one to swab the wound was difficult. This was...

Julian Brasington

      When one has lived a long time (After Galway Kinnell) When one has lived a long time alone and not alone your time become someone’s history and you have grown tired of yet another war and the world has it in for you simply for being wrong nation...

Jason Conway

      I heard a rumour that Pandora moonlights She wears sunglasses in the lounge knives flexed and ready for battle It’s not Sunday but lambs need carving She’s a weapon of disruption unleashed to worm rumours where words have no walls Paid for all the...

Rachael Clyne

      Torn On one side– my heritage on the other side­– their heritage on both sides– carnage everywhere– endless grief. To lift the weight sitting in my chest. I need to be away from people. In an edgeland of drab fields and ditches, I seek solace, not...