Antony Dunn

      Plainsong Have you heard the one about how I’m hoping to bow out – playing guitar for the Cure on a wide stage – the riff pure as wind-bells in the twilight, the crowd stretching beyond sight into the dark and the rain – smiling, not ageing, not...

Alex Scarborough

      Hiking I measure distance in Spotify playlists so I can’t be trusted with maps. How long until this becomes exhausting? You pace out the metres and minutes, you take three steps ahead as I want to ask if the ridges in your face would soften...

Myra Schneider

      Cloud Forget the invisible network of servers which stores and manages or mismanages data in the unending sky far above our heads, and ignore the shroud-grey layers louring today – they seem to have sucked all the colour out of this world which...

Sef

    Sef is an artist and writer searching for poetics of transformation in the everyday. https://substack.com/@seaandfog instagram: @seaandfog

Wayne F. Burke

      seagull flying over NO VACANCY beach motel * faces on a school bus: petals of flowers unopened * golden finches rise & fall like notes of a symphony before my bicycle     Wayne F. Burke’s haiku, and associated forms, have been...

Jon Miller

      Moving In The upper floor of the old byre a darkness made of owl-stare— its blink drinks you in. A scythe hung under the last gasp of a rafter. An armchair sprouts the beards of men who died in it. The skylight a cataract woven by funnel-spiders;...