Gráinne Daly

      Not for me Glasnevin Nor its Irish revolutionaries. Not for me the slate rain  on my headstone for ten months of the year and intermittent showers in the other two. Not for me the tomb of Irish soil. Put me on a plane and let me make one last...

James McDermott

      Out a found poem from a Google search ‘define out’ no longer detained in prison in the middle of nowhere no longer involved in a competition not at home or one’s place of work away from the goal   the finishing line   the designated playing area...

DS Maolalai

      Thunderstorms. Fireworks. I’m in the spare bedroom/office. Chrysty’s in a rotten bad mood. she walks the apartment like a donkey stable. kicks holes out of drywall and violently washes up plates. she’s told me get out and I’ve...

Stephen Keeler

      How to get here Among the joys of love was when we got our first apartment on a boulevard above the trams and tree-tops and the wires that cut the street like tangram puzzles and our friends would come with olives and cheap wine they found the...

Marion McCready, Vic Brooks

      Bay Laurel My last will and testament is to be buried under the bay tree flourishing in my back garden. Standing there, year after year, like a planted woman taken from again and again. One day, her leaves will no longer replenish. But for now she...