Andrew Nightingale Andrew Nightingale grew up in West Cornwall and studied microelectronics in Manchester. He now lives in St Leonards-on-Sea and works for an animal protection charity. His most recent pamphlet is “Denizen Disease” (Red Ceilings, 2022).
Author Archives: Cat Chong
Megan Cannella: If It Plays in Peoria: A Glossary of Midwestern Survival
cw: drug use asking, Bathroom? verb meaning I want to fuck meaning ya got any drugs meaning I need to cry meaning wanna go talk shit about this bitch meaning did ya see who just came in,Continue reading “Megan Cannella: If It Plays in Peoria: A Glossary of Midwestern Survival”
Robert Sheppard: Circle of the City: following in the steps of Chapter Five
As they moved from Lime Street…a vision of Leningrad was still super-imposed upon Liverpool in his mind’s eye. Malcolm Lowry, In Ballast to the White Sea no ‘flags’ left: cobblesswirling around the unfencedNelson edifice: CHANGE LAGS Death peeps out, hoodedskull: it chilled Redburn everytime: but the cannon points Empire’s precisemachinery straight at you:the chainsContinue reading “Robert Sheppard: Circle of the City: following in the steps of Chapter Five”
Nadira Clare Wallace: extracts from Hope Fight
from Surrender Harder I like a long tongue that can re-enter the pastand get to licking there with phrases, getto massaging there my injured ago’s. * When I look up I feel I am home-come.Why, what have those shredsof dream-fleece––clouds––got to do with me?Maybe I’m more than capsizing body.Maybe there is something sky-allied that wouldlikeContinue reading “Nadira Clare Wallace: extracts from Hope Fight”
Cynthia Abdallah: ‘Lamu’, ‘Ulale Ngoxolo Madiba’, and ‘Naisula’
LamuOf mangrove roots stretching into the Indian OceanOf Takwa ruins and ancient townsOf dhows, donkeys and jelly fishNaked children and roiling wavesAbandoned forts and strange carvings Ulale Ngoxolo MadibaOf leopard skins, slaughtered oxen, swollen feet and body achesOf Zulu dances, Siyabongas and enchanting hallelujah. Naisulaof plain grass lands, grazing zebras and thick bushesOf Maasai morans,Continue reading “Cynthia Abdallah: ‘Lamu’, ‘Ulale Ngoxolo Madiba’, and ‘Naisula’”
Susanna Galbraith: ‘ekphrasis’ and ‘nude self portrait, crouching’
nude self portrait, crouching there is a white page and a man sits within its bounds, a knee pressed to the right edge a hand that would be pushing left if it weren’t invisible. being inside brackets changes the difference between pushing and holding. the invisible hand never had any fingers the invisible hand wasContinue reading “Susanna Galbraith: ‘ekphrasis’ and ‘nude self portrait, crouching’”
Hattie Atkins: All Creatures
You emerge, bowlegged, and blinking into the sun,skin paled like fruits before the harvest. I ask whereyou’ve been, but you sigh and shake your headand we tread the path home, careful and unspeaking,mud emptying from your pocketslike an offering. I offer a bowl and I offer a bed, but you’re sateddespite all you’ve abstained, andContinue reading “Hattie Atkins: All Creatures”
Jane Hartshorn: ‘Cardinal’ and ‘Blood Count’
Cardinal we are crouching overa rabbittrying to discernthe cause of death tangle of innardsbrocade of purplespleen hot breathof flesh crampedcentipede of thesmall intestine the dashed cardinalof its open throat indigo-soaked andsteaming runic my tongue lying heavyin my mouth squeezing musclesin sequence the sound of grass and violettearing from the tap-root Blood Count the cold ofContinue reading “Jane Hartshorn: ‘Cardinal’ and ‘Blood Count’”
Scott Lilley: sonnet simp
to begin, and no matter how deconstructed the form, in a collection of sonnetsit is somewhat unavoidable that the reader may expect to interpret a love poem. What I mean by this is that said love poem may not necessarily be some overtor passionate elucidation rather may contain yearning, an object of desire, the whimContinue reading “Scott Lilley: sonnet simp”
Piero Toto: Trade Lite
the 55 to Clerkenwellbears bodies I don’t needcrouching at the backthey ask why sad, cherie?you love me like Diana Rosson summits I can’t reachat Xmas here I swapa crown for tortoise dustwhile queens dance& vogue asking~?the lights crawl back upto whisper turn aroundlet’s walk me backgoodnight I typeblue ticksremember me todaymy mother slumpedin dreamsplastic wakesContinue reading “Piero Toto: Trade Lite”
OSMOSIS PRESS 