As we move to this newly designed site, we are keen to maintain the onscreen integrity of the poems and prose we publish …
My father fought in the First World War that used to be called ‘Great’ until the truth of its greatness was questioned and the denial of its greatness accepted.
After one long winter dredging the waterways for Meek’s Steam Navigation Company, and a second short summer hauling ice …
Betrayal begins at home, a fine-boned fledgling,
blown-in through your window, heart a-shiver.
Gerda Fuchs owned the guesthouse at the highest point of the village of Zander.
‘Promise me leaf-blowers will cut out first,
Spinning in sparkless Catherine Wheels
Then dying like blue-bottles.’
Number of this bus: the 6838, which starts in L.A. and runs to Sacramento.
Not even the owls had eyes hollower
than mine after the dark had emptied them.
I try to sleep on Miriam’s silk divan, can’t, and walk far in a snowstorm to some 24 hour porn booth …
He slipped out in the intermission with binoculars to gaze at the stars for inspiration.
For a good half hour this morning, from five
till the mobile’s ringtone woke me in a sweat,
I was young again and Mammy was alive.
My sister Ailsa didn’t talk much. She didn’t want to. It was because she listened instead, and she watched.
The kumquat tree you brought for me
from Florida, it likes the sun, you said,
so I found a place outside
Karen starts it. ‘Tell you who’s got loads of money,’ she says, ‘that Jim. Hasn’t he, Des? Bloody minted he is.’
The room is empty apart from the plants,
the people and all of the furniture.