Featured Writing

Russell Willis: Leaf 179 from a Gradual, N. France, ca. 1550

Russell Willis Russell Willis won the Sapphire Prize in Poetry in the 2022 Jewels in the Queen’s Crown Contest (Sweetycat Press) and has published poetry in thirty online and print journals and twenty print anthologies. Russell grew up in and around Texas and was vocationally scattered as an engineer, ethicist, college/university teacher and administrator, andContinue reading “Russell Willis: Leaf 179 from a Gradual, N. France, ca. 1550”

S.C. Flynn: Phase Change

Somehow I always know when it starts;when the locusts have reached the point of swarmingand the desert breaks away to fly all nightdesperately seeking the green it cannot see,a book of a billion fluttering pagescarried on the wind, each square metre teemingwith thousands of voracious lives. I wait,sweating in bed while the cloud rolls onuntilContinue reading “S.C. Flynn: Phase Change”

Eli Dunham: KNIT ME MY FENCE

my neurosurgeontold memy brainis aballofyarn.knitknitknit i don’tknowhow toknit myhippocampus& it’ssecretswhatdoes afencehave incommonw/ ananchor? the needles ora feelingthe emptymirror (they bothcontainsomething) theski maski calldreams Eli Dunham Eli Dunham (they/them/theirs) is a queer, neurodivergent poet living in Sacramento, CA. They earned their BA in English frome Illinois State University in 2014 and then went on to earnContinue reading “Eli Dunham: KNIT ME MY FENCE”

Rachel Smith: Breath:e / St(utter)

Graphite and printed letterpress  These works explore the idea of notating a reading process, using punctuation to: draw attention to the rhythm of breathing; notice the wrongly placed pauses; mark the occurrences of stuttering or stumbling while navigating an unfamiliar text. I am interested in visualising an embodied experience of reading; materialising routes through textsContinue reading “Rachel Smith: Breath:e / St(utter)”

Sue Burge: In Which I half-Hearted Aspire to Become an Urban Guerrilla or Rural Diva

The post has been, a small boxy pulsing thing and some fliers in languages I don’t speak. I am thick with flu, dressing-gown crusty with winter; I blear my way through a Japanese DVD “5cm a second” – this is the rate at which cherry blossoms fall. I drift and doze and dream my mum’sContinue reading “Sue Burge: In Which I half-Hearted Aspire to Become an Urban Guerrilla or Rural Diva”

Cathleen Allyn Conway: III

She tried to make the disaster-noise of water and wind.Could be breathable sky. Could be selfish water. No sonic mass remained in its passage, no sign of sounding.Worried for nothing. It failed, simply. The sea was a convent. Who could imagine the man behind the glass?Like watching tile. Like imploring air. The sun warmed theContinue reading “Cathleen Allyn Conway: III”

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