by Fathima Zahra | Jan 9, 2025 | Filmpoems
Splice Asemic Triptych Asemic (adjective): using lines and symbols that look like writing, but do not have any meaning. Katie Beswick is a writer from south east London. Recent poems appear in Rattle, Dust Poetry Magazine, The Waxed Lemon and The Haibun Journal. Her...
by Fathima Zahra | Dec 2, 2024 | Filmpoems
Fret Soft droplets form on protrusions Floating legs in front A saline nest laps around flesh traps underneath Only a few feet are visible creeping, fogging our possibility Steam could rise from skin but here only unease is let in A mouldering of...
by Sofía Masondo | Oct 9, 2024 | Featured, Filmpoems
Magnificence For Spike Walker, Photomicrographer What jewelled gifts are these, spliced and stacked on platters of smeared glass? A universe of micro. You breathed life to mitre continents, raised spikebergs of vitamin C. Sulphur produced Marvel-ready planets...
by Sofía Masondo | Sep 11, 2024 | Featured, Filmpoems
Nerve Music Sometimes I’m jittery like this jittering nervousness appears as a tremor from somewhere distant far away inside and I’m on edge but maybe on edge is advantageous where things happen the best location for seeing each peak...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 28, 2024 | Filmpoems
Nine Moons Physic The moon changes size Tonight it is small and high white and hard as a pill While you dream of stone trees under the ground it drops from the sky into the glass beside your bed dissolves with a bone-saw sigh The water clouds and then clears...
by Sofía Masondo | Aug 14, 2024 | Filmpoems
ANY LAST WORDS. (Chapter 3 of film Back on Home Soil) A friend says, grief leaves everyone behind She ruminates on her words and goes grief leaves no one behind It shows in the way grief leaves a fraction in memory: Recollections once pristine are...
