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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

George Duggan & Samuel Hart

      me or the devil     Ted Hankey asks, "Who's in charge? Me? Or the Devil?" Chilling and precise, George Duggan takes aim. George Duggan is a writer, producer and radio presenter based in South East London. He is currently a member of the...

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James McDermott

      Virus six    dark    the idiot’s lantern shows me rainbows you branded sick   which made me wear masks   wash hands as if Lady Macbeth breathless   gagging  until I spit it out blue eyes turn to pansies   fag butts  syringes before a ten year talk...

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Elizabeth McGeown

      The Ultimate Painting - Study for Portrait VII (Francis Bacon) A found poem using the text describing Study for Portrait VII on moma.org   Seated on a throne-like gilded chair He endeavoured The image of open mouthed terror is a recurring...

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Sarah Radice

      Being Autistic I am handed a racket and ushered onto court. An avid tennis fan, I am awed by being in the place champions are made. But I realise that, although I’ve grasped most of the rules by watching tournaments on tv - in the safety of my...

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Sarah J Bryson

      Knitting It’s Grandma Gibson who starts me off gently correcting me, praising the stitches pointing out how it’s written on the pattern. Shows me how to cast on. Then Mum’s Mum, Grandma Gasson tries to improve my grip, gets me to wrap the wool...

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Gareth Writer-Davies

      Kenwood Chef I blow dust (an epidermis of powdered sugar) from the plastic body and think of what Mother conjured from spatula whip and grinder (each task with its own attachment) never tiring helping hands that saved time for the hundred and one...

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D. Parker

        D. Parker spends most of her days surrounded by books both at work and at home. In her free time she reads and occasionally lets words form on paper.    

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Lydia Harris

      weather forecast for the funeral   there is a chance of deer grazing of mica rising in stone of knee deep sphagnum of two blank pages there is a chance of roses of lips being sealed of starling clouds yielding of a gurgle in the ditch of snipe...

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Anna Maria Mickiewicz

      The state of war For Ukraine Storm. Broken spruces like matches In the Estonian forest. Spruces or pines? Broken our souls, Those, who did pass across, will not understand… Those, who did not pass across, will not understand As well    ...

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Sam J Grudgings

      The birds are spies, they report to the trees   The birds don’t grant the day without sacrifice. We feed them gold bullion in place of corn. We are starving. We gift them an audience to our momentary. Tomorrow has gone, so we offer air burials as...

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Ilse Pedler

      Jed of the Dodgems My brother said you can’t make a mountain out of a sow’s arse and at sixteen he ran away to join the fair; changed his name from Gordon to Jed of the Dodgems, grew his hair, slicked it back with Brylcreem perfected the art of...

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Melanie Branton

      my brilliant boyfriend told me you’re not very intelligent, you only got good grades because you’re a conformist that’s the text we had to learn, boys are vowels girls are consonants, boundaries, sheepdogs, only there to hold the vowels together,...

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Kate Rigby

      Hyperhidrosis     ephemeral tides of a faulty sweat-tap bits of rubbish wastepaper with lives of their own to form a gallery accidental sculptures accidental shapes escape plop and drop to land celebrating moisture drop from crevices or...

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Kenneth Pobo

      Mrs. Panterluck says she doesn’t know why she keeps dis- appearing.  One minute she’s in a mall walking over to a perfume kiosk and the next she’s gone.  It’s like she misplaces her skin.  Wherever she is, she retains a brain, though Mr....

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Ruth Aylett

      Graphic Designs He arrives in a pixellated taxi so low-res he could be any of the men who’d tried to resize her round the axis of their doubts. Her fractal word within a word within a word, too small for her own resolution, plinks into the glass...

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Caleb Parkin

      Queertopia (Working Title) i dreamt it once     but i dream a lot of things     not all of them printable     but this was some kind of culty shit well      no        the good bits of a cult     if you can say cults have    redeeming features i...

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Philip Dunkerley

      Good Neighbour Irecê, Brazil An entrepreneur, he ran a butcher’s stall in the market. So you could see the meat he’d waft the flies away with his hand. We rented a house from him; he showed us the covered tank in the yard - that’s where the truck...

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