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The archive is a separate site formed from all the posts from that original Ink Sweat & Tears website, it consists of everything we have published up to the end of 2019.

Recent posts

Liz Lefroy

      Egg Inside, it’s containment: a smooth shell curving away into itself, taut around a thin membrane which closes on its viscous, one-celled strength; and it’s a silent circling of mass, unused to air, unexposed to the risk of strange heats, to the...

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John Greening

      At Christmas All Easyjet flights are cancelled – only difficult journeys now. Three in party hats come dragging their presents over a snowy car park. A few attendants shepherd them into a building: the call to desert places. Looking up for a...

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Pippa Little

      Sparklen Bottle Grandma’s sparklen in the winterdark house where I grew up loved me the best: I pushed my nose up close to see fireflies leap and sputter, glow-worms climb and fall in tiny squeezes, flayed hearts of angels – I know she whispered...

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Joanne Key

      His Daughters It wasn't the life you'd imagine. Most nights he’d be out, on the sherry early doors. Closing time, he'd come back and start. Exploding over nothing, he'd throw his tea at the wall, smash the place up, scatter elves like skittles. He...

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Mary Wight

      Feasting She brought thoughts, words rather than grapes, slipped out among laundered clothes. Little offerings best but today he wanted more and she couldn’t deny him. Her tongue spilled stories he devoured, egged her on until the cough again,...

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Dave Stacey

      Morning has broken Please bear with me one tiny moment while I try to explain: listen: a speck of a half-fledged sparrow doesn’t sit at the top thin twig of a late winter tree and throat his half-formed song for all he is worth, which isn’t that...

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David Belcher

      I’m worn out by talk of devastation I walk out the door, turning back to twist the key in the sticky lock. On the street my first impulse is to look around, tilt my ear to the faintest sounds, summon a semblance of optimism; but looking for the...

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Wayne F. Burke

      I Know Rainy Nights the wet cold touch the splatter and drip in wind swept mist and black as pitch streets lit by red and green scrawls and torches of scalding headlights.     Wayne F. Burke's poetry has been widely published online and...

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Katherine Stockton

      Hibernation Girl I feel the summer days in winter & winter days through summer. In transitional seasons I do nothing at all but revise how to survive. How easy it is to transmute between you and the next love that I can already see coming. As...

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Zoe Broome

      Between Sunsets We danced like madmen all night in our tap shoes – knitter knatter, pitter patter. A prancing pair we were, from pub to pub. Always drunk, we puffed gutter-stubs. Knowing no daylight, we rose vamplike each sundown. We stank of our...

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Erin Russell

      canyon meme    we’re the kids so swole so cocksure cowboy cool in leather boots stampede serrating mountain ridge our lump-karst slick-boy Johnston gorge- ing on feathering algae, curious syntax, jagged gaps in the treeline behind—    telling...

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Niles Reddick

    Jury Duty When the official summons from the Sheriff’s department arrived in my mail box, I thought I’d been caught speeding again by the camera at an intersection in town, or they were soliciting for the Sheriff’s reelection.  I was surprised it was a...

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