Today’s choice
Previous poems
Jane Ayres
Deathbed Fantasia
as now melts & nowhere goes nowhere
we wash up breathless
a box of blue light star-cushioned
harvesting morphine-thick razorlick-blueberry-pinch
& my sub-tropical heart
will punctuate the idea of treacling hope
puncturing the sense of a book
Opacity.
(it is not enough it is not enough)
find the version of yourself with sharpened corners
urge it forwards
& now the blue makes sense. kind of.
Jane Ayres was shortlisted for the 2021 Aesthetica Creative Writing Award. Her first collection edible was published by Beir Bua Press (July 2022) and micro-chapbook my lost womb still sings to me published by Porkbelly Press (October 2023)
Antony Dunn
Have you heard the one about
how I’m hoping to bow out –
playing guitar for the Cure
Alex Scarborough
I measure distance in Spotify playlists
so I can’t be trusted with maps.
Myra Schneider
Forget the invisible network of servers which stores
and manages or mismanages data in the unending sky
far above our heads . . .
Sef
The body is not solid. The body is almost perfect.
Jon Miller
The upper floor of the old byre
a darkness made of owl-stare—
its blink drinks you in.
Salvatore Difalco
No green swell this evening
will detach me from my hat.
Annah Atane
That night,
the stars had slept. The wind
silent as something dying.
Jake Roberts
hamlet asked it to the dark night sea
where do waters end and i begin
Miguel Cullen
The pelican is so dovey, with her funny crème anglaise feathers with pink and her split-ended crest and mouth.