Today’s choice
Previous poems
Autumn Richardson
Hive
What you are –
bodied light, a store of oil
a hive of warm blood
chemicals flooding a brain, calculating
a furnace
filament of awareness in
a palpating dark
a treeless dark
a stone-edged dark
coal river dark.
Flesh and its impermanence.
Autumn Richardson is a poet, editor and translator. Since 2009 she has been co-director of multimedia publishing house Corbel Stone Press. Her most recent pamphlet is The Long Before (CSP 2026). She lives in Connemara, Ireland. www.instagram.com/autumnrichardson_poet
Matthew Thorpe-Coles
You retreat back to your bedroom,
your headset cooler than any
sunlight . . .
S Reeson
only now is it apparent how
dishonouring a body is a crime
Paul Connolly
At Aber Falls
he felt nothing
water sheeted
past grottoes
snakes of tributary
lazed along
Cindy Botha
I notice her because she doesn’t have a dog
in an afternoon of dog-walkers
Alex Josephy
the goddess of the library
extends in cloth-bound curves
along a lettered shelf
Ben Banyard
There were hundreds of them, all in period costume,
each generation explained who they were,
queued like at a wedding reception to greet us.
Lindsay McLeod Espinoza
Venus passed over the south node of the Moon today
Ilse Pedler
She offered up her linen bag to me, said
pick a shell my lady and I’ll tell your fortune
Sue Butler
Squirrels have beheaded all my parrot tulips
and the supermarket is out of chilli, also tabasco sauce.