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poetry

We did not know it would leave us here Our sun sits bored as a dog at noon, gnawing the rocks   No stir, no From here, the earth might as well be flat – this eye its centre, this stone heart its own, all   horizons one drop down and off I am not yet a parvenu; ideas, like books, cannot   content me There is no fact much further than the reach of an arm – desperate, dislocated   This old tongue is dried to the bone I hate the sun, that attrition of seen things, which comes home safe and sound  
Littoral

Prize Entry

November 2018

Hal Coase

Prize Entry

November 2018

bangable dudes in history

Charlotte Geater

Prize Entry

November 2018

we collected together all of the scientists and historians & i said okay, how about him. he was a...

Three Poems

Poetry

November 2018

Gerard Coletta

Poetry

November 2018

Caciocavallo Podolico   I call up the man from Apulia to talk about how cheese is made from the milk of the Podolica cow....

Poetry

Issue No. 23

Two Poems

A. K. Blakemore

Poetry

Issue No. 23

MAY   you slid into my life as though a witch’s smock — a sun poem.   fat bee...

Poetry

August 2018

Two Poems

Mary Jean Chan

Poetry

August 2018

The Calligrapher   Try grasping a piece of wood between your thumb, middle & ring finger – as if...

Two Poems

Poetry

July 2018

Richard Georges

Poetry

July 2018

Dead Reckoning   They say birds always find their way back home but home is a nowhere – a memory; a never was.  ...

 

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