Monthly Archives: May 2014
Matt Macdonald: Two poems
Love she folded her coat, let it balance on her bag in the chair beside her across the table he smiled, stroked the back of her hand Glasgow lay behind them the confusion of its streets forgotten for this happy … Continue reading
J. A. Sutherland
Poem from An Imaginary Menagerie – a calendar-sequence based on names given to full moons by various Native American people JUNE: Flower Moon (San Ildefonso) Phoenix Beneath the Flower Moon the Phoenix rises. From the dust of winter’s ashes, from … Continue reading
Robert Nisbet: Two poems
Treading a Path Nineteen-seventies half-heard-of place. You needed to tread up through the garlic and the raspberry canes to the hall, a sort of hall, with a lovely grained and golden floor. Sometimes committees of a kind would sit around … Continue reading
Sheila Templeton
Dislocation Somewhere in my mind, at my shoulder he’s still there; that pause he takes on the edge of a rocky path forcing itself up the grim slap of a wintry mountain. His jacket’s too big, woollen, twenty years out … Continue reading
Oonah V Joslin
Give ’em an inch… Plant me thumb deep and I will rise in spring, green pricks through hard ground after the evil frost is past. And in the summer pick a stick thumb-thick an inch to whip a wicked wife … Continue reading
morgan downie: two poems
the weaver, passing the spinning indigo of slow looms in late spanish sunlight, dusk cloth laid in folds, darkening into bolts. such memory becomes a lexicography of fabric. the spun rhythm of fibre iambic, spilled ghazal of the warp. marquisette, … Continue reading
Bridget Khursheed
Boundaries walking in a new place is so suitable for the foot that path with different levels small stones and moss that is not wet I don’t see any violets or siskins or goldcrest or anything interesting but the air … Continue reading
Ciaran Hodgers
Exile The destination falls overboard, Still breathing. There goes another one. How typical to stay and suffer. Make, do settles for making do. To stay is to drown; Buoyant on gesture. The state’s goodwill. There’s no boat. Learn how mutually … Continue reading
Mavis Gulliver: Two poems
Far North We reach Seil’s north-east tip, stand by the cleft that lets the ocean through, mainland Argyll a river width away. A windless day when slack tide holds its breath, seaweeds rest, small fish leap, leave tiny splashes – … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 