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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
Anthony Wilson
Moth My first of the season, its legs, tiny head and wings in permanent suspension above an exposition of the Enlightenment. I wasn’t really thinking, I just snapped shut at the right moment and now have it forever skipping for sheer joy. ...
Ben Banyard
Day of the Dead Granny introduced us to her parents, her uncle who moved to South Africa in 1912, the grandfather I never knew and his family. There were hundreds of them, all in period costume, each generation explained who they were, queued like at a...
Lindsay McLeod Espinoza
Notes on Liminal Maps Venus passed over the south node of the Moon today: I don’t know what this means but I do know that dark tons of metal carved a curve slower than belief through dusking light beneath grey under-bellied clouds as she held...
Ilse Pedler
Fortune Teller at the Mediaeval Fayre She offered up her linen bag to me, said pick a shell my lady and I’ll tell your fortune; my fingers skimmed scalloped edges the bold domes of limpets but settled on a smaller more fragile find – the wing of a...
Sue Butler
Of our times and tulips Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce. At the zebra crossing an SUV hurls a diesel glazed puddle into my boots and the rain stings my eyes, breaches the seams...
Cormac Culkeen
A Gift Morning’s cusp of summer in a cobalt breach the sun is a white coin lifted from the sea. Walking, going somewhere from old rifts, like a calliope, spun like fists on a hurricane stare, glassy arraignment loops a centred pain. (This happens...
Maurice Devitt
Genetics Yes, you gave us your elegant hands and capricious smile, but as I make my way to the chiropodist this morning, it’s your feet I’m thinking of and how in your later years they gave you constant trouble. I was still too young for our...
Martin Ferguson
Simulacrum after Jean Baudrillard Pursue the facsimile of the attendance sign; here you must join the line. People in uniform will inform you where to stand, how to sit, when to scream how to follow the rules. When you pass this initial test, you...
Peter Branson
Saving Face Corvus carone, carone, the carrion crow Emerge, from way beyond the pale, one day, clenched feet an amulet about your wrist. You’re eight, like us, you say, toy wilderness we occupy, a monster on your fist, outlandish night. No tinge...
Alice Huntley
Elephantine carved from the tusk of my grandmother I am learning how to remember we follow the old paths traced through the bush that belongs and yet does not belong to us where we are born is where we pass through if I could, I would pull down...
Bel Wallace
My dad is thinking geometrically, eyes closed; he waves his arms to describe how he can transform a circle into a square. Did you know a line has only one dimension? That means it takes up no space. Perhaps trigonometry can save us. You need two...
Sarah Crowe
wig they gave me the cold cap to stop my chemo hair falling out brain freeze for hours a tight band of nausea but still my hair fell out i swept up my gold and silver hairs washed them laid them out to dry in neat lines on an old multicoloured...
Daniel Dean
Man Eating Leeks Watercolour on ivory C. 1824–5 Today I make myself green ivories, Unfix a broken rib and blacken it With carbon, drip on water so it spreads, Mix egg wash watercolour pigments fit To reinforce the scenes. The creatures grow, Bone of my bone,...
Lesley Burt
Shell-like either – a conch found in hot white sand on the shoreline at Sanur Beach a Fibonacci whorl among morning offerings – left with reverence lapped by ripples – while bright boats with sails proclaiming Bintang Beer ferry tourists across the reef to the roll...
Rachael Clyne’s ‘Homeland’ is the June 2025 Pick of the Month! Read and hear it here.
Because it is a beautiful evocation of the land/Palestine's grief 'Homeland' by Rachael Clyne powerfully pinpoints the current horrors of the world, particularly the genocide in Gaza, but also speaks to the general sorrow of displacement and loss of home. It's shape –...
Annie Acre
Solarpolar i am sun-shot / green-beamed / stem-steep / hands cupfuls of heartlines / conjuring water / my face light-dialled / hair wild / screaming beauty & i am root-retched / soiled-deep / dirt-dark / legs spindly – lost maplines / petering earth / my thirst...
Dennis Tomlinson
Passage to London Spring has come to swing his hammer, to drive crocuses forth from the leaf-scattered soil. Look at the workmen raising their scaffolding, opening roofs where the old tiles lay. While daisies peer shyly towards a pale sun I up and depart on the...
Jennifer Cole
My Precious Holding your cooling hand, bedside, they said I had better take your wedding ring or it might get “disappeared” its fading ghost now a mere shadow on my finger. So it hangs with mine – twin markers round my neck – chained together to...
Eithne Longstaff
Ulster Museum After ‘The Supper at Emmaus’ by Caravaggio On the road to Belfast today, I failed to recognise my father. I saw a flamingo by the Tamnnamore turn off, but paid little regard as it took off, legs stretched out behind like a hyphen;...
Mark O’Connor
The Piano The last thing cleared from my Late parents’ house Was the piano. At half a tonne in weight It was like the anchor - This thing that kept us all Together; Without it, the tide came And carried us away. Mark O'Connor...