Monthly Archives: November 2017
Stefanie Bennett
MACHIAVELLI IN THE BRONX No one lives here any more, so how is it you found me slap-happily accosted by chores? Yes, it’s the Sabbath, and dare I objurgate your Sunday best’s just too solemn for my taste. Wise … Continue reading
Suzy Aspley
The Shore Tattered flags flap gently in a North Sea breeze. The mighty North Sea. Early fishermen shoulder rods and buckets full of ripe smelling bait. A tractor harrows sand neatly in rows. Diesel fumes whipped away in the salted … Continue reading
Ricky Garni
FLAP YOUR WINGS: A BOOK FOR BEGINNERS If you were a bird, and your baby hatched was an alligator, what would you do? Of course you would love it and feed it and care for it and try to make … Continue reading
Billi Ramsay
deep within deep deep down down lurking within a lapse of a chink of a wink in a bygone time darker deeper deeper still darkness creeps creepily chinking the chains caught in the chink of the wink of an eye … Continue reading
Rona Fitzgerald
On the Edge That’s where I started. A small island between oceans and continents. Our untamed west coast home to puffins red deer indolent grey seals. Bird banter breaks stillness water wanders. I fell in love with Europe boulevards, Beethoven, … Continue reading
John Grey
ON MY OWN you have to be a liar to join the liars’ club and a thief to be admitted into the den of thieves except you can’t lie and say you stole something when you really didn’t; that would … Continue reading
Raymond Miller
Backward At seven they reckon you’re too old for adoption. And I look on your head so underwhelming and lost within that bicycle helmet, behind peers four years in letters and numbers; your inside out and backward dress patterned with … Continue reading
John Brewster: Two poems
The first wings I made for Icarus I still have them. Take them out to air, run these knotted fingers through the curls of wood and twine. Let the little arms unfold, once a year, at sunrise. All children can … Continue reading
The Open Mouse 