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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

Matthew James Friday

      Elegy for the Caught Fish I Over the Salem highway flies A bald eagle carrying a fish like a weed out of the Willamette. We totem our empires with the raptor, weave into flags, fix on coins but what of the victims? How come no one ever glories the...

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Maria Sanger

      Number 13. The embrace of decay. The much anticipated collection of Dr Franz Bauer She stared at the many photographs of blackthorns. A cluster of people wandered past and gathered at the next easel, but her feet refused to budge from ‘Number 13’....

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Ansuya Patel

      Venerate Her Husband’s Image As A God Think what it must have been like for her fasting from sunrise to moonrise, to wake up three hours before dawn, bathe, apply sindoor on the parting of her hair line, decorate her hands with henna, dress in a...

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Lorraine Caputo

What's In The Basket? (drawing text) I. What? I ask my self … Will I find the peace I so desire, the healing? (4 Jl 2021) II. No-one may see what is in that tightly woven basket – perhaps it is the moon, or perhaps ‘tis nothing (14 Mr 2021) III. Through the woven...

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Chris Beckett

      Bob & Moses Zerihun drove him over the dead-cow hills and Bob’s long hair stood up with shock at what he saw. Every time they stopped, a volley of shepherd boys attacked the Landcruiser with stinging hands and their weightless voices echoed...

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Geoff Sawers

      The Generals There must be some kind of key, some motive-piece, that explains where we are, or were, or will be. We don’t know how we know this. Maybe a map held in some archive that can never safely be released or viewed; drawn up for an...

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Angela France

      The Cloud Driving into low cloud everything fades to a blur, all colour and definition leached so that trees and buildings become vague shapes. The glimpse of a house light is a spark, a blink like the flicker of the broadband router and it seems...

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David Van-Cauter

      Lifeboat Two calls this morning – flood of tears… She cannot eat a single thing they give her. Instead it’s up to us to ship it in like cargo: bananas, sandwiches, pork pies and now consommé soup – remember that? These are the things that bind us...

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Dan Stathers

      Skunk Cabbage A long way from the quags of Nova Scotia, stowaway beneath the cherry laurel thicket, more triffid than cabbage, your skunk mustard and garlic to some, rotting meat to beetles. I’ve stumbled across your invasion, trespassers to the...

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 Sarah L Dixon’

      Falling in love with a moment I fall in love with the way the sea lays salted glass, garlic cooks in its own skin. I fall in love with the way new badges sit on my hat and cardigan wars. I fall in love with sheltering from rain in pottery shop...

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Simon Alderwick

      see the light 1 in the beginning, there was light. and light said: let there be god. and god meant: everything touched by light. 2 and light so loved, light bled. bled so much, god bathed. bathed so much, light spilled. spilled so much, so much...

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Tim Kiely

      The Abbot of Kosljun Monastery Considers the Cyclopean Lamb He suppresses a shudder as he summons the brothers from the library; shows how extensive are notes they will take of the specimen the farmers brought to the island that morning, their...

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Rebecca Bilkau

      Travel essentials A rucksack isn’t a kitchen dresser, or a view, or a whirl of Christmas Market cinnamon, sweet almonds, or the comfort of the bells of Beata Maria leading safe home through the restless stammer of a lonely night; a rucksack...

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Sylvie Jane Lewis

      Water Damage Noted 06/24 An old lady enters, soak-dizzy, puts her returned book on the trolley. She’d not bothered to carry it in her bag, barely shielded it with her coat. The pages are wobbled, warped, thin skin wrinkling in fast-forward. Yes,...

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Leigh Manley

      Should You Wish to Imagine Poetry in Ventricular Ectopy False starts, I’m aching to roll with you, though you catch me stumbling off beat latches, stomatic downturns spoken improvised snatches of punk, hybrid bongo systole, freeze-frame lunar...

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Patrick Wright

      IN EVERY OVAL A FACE When you drew lines in the sand with your long white cane the lesson was that faces can be found just about anywhere. All they need is a frame. And there it was, just needed you to accentuate the slanted brows with a deft...

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S.C. Flynn

      TENTH VIEW OF THE SOUTHERN CROSS Araucania, Chile, 1800 AD This is no job for the young, Melipal; only old women like me will go on using one dream to explain another in this language twisted like dry tree roots. Your five lights have watched us...

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Ilias Tsagas

  Ilias Tsagas is a Greek poet writing in English as a second language. His poems have appeared in journals like: AMBIT, Under the Radar, Poetry Wales, streetcake, SAND, Tokyo Poetry, Plumwood Mountain and elsewhere. Ilias was a Poet-in-Residence at the European...

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Lauren Sheerman

      Offices matins as the sun thinks of rising i whisper good morning god into my pillow. lauds i splash well water three times on my face as a tonic & walk out into the day; out into the cloister, into the wind, into the world. prime i butter...

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Curtis Brown

      Property 26-2-24 After West Bank settlement marketing event… in New Jersey. Some old masters may have operated in good faith: unclear how they made their riches. Financial reports, always came back black, boxes of darker bodies conjuring profit....

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