Featured

Poetry
John D. Robinson
‘You were collapsed in the heap of shit that you are, I found you when I came home from work at the bottom of the stairs: our neighbours had tried to rouse you and didn’t know whether to call an ambulance, you’re beginning to become a fucking mess and it’s hurting...

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
After John Cooper Clarke . The fucking dame is fucking furious and not fucking having it fucking up is fucking down fucking in is fucking out fucking master is fucking slave fucking Palestine is fucking never fucking Goliath is fucking David fucking catapult is fucking atom bomb the fucking wall was fucking...

Poetry
Lourdes Vega
With breath hung heavy and love like a shooting gallery, I say, I lost myself in anonymity. The sweet spot of sickly instinct, impoverished by all lovers’ lament. All else before stunk of cat piss and dog shit. Some putrid lovers quarrel without any meaning. Hate...

Poetry
William S. Tribell
All the way from the Renaissance and that lasting ripple And of course the ancients—learning, discerning deceits Those sinister sorts of questioned character—Marlowean intrigue The real stories, life and death, history and mine—the eye I was born scorned and a strong hypothesis,...

Poetry
Elisabeth Horan
Broken pine Behind the painting The world we inherit Married we made it A lot better Something together It was not capable before Long roads alone So dangerous if not Deadly. All demons Know midnight knows Curves; slatted twilight Steering I sat on your lap Feet feel pedals, as friends— Motel eyes blinking Vacancy in here It sure...

Poetry
Luiza
I wear a chastity belt I know I’m going to hell I locked it up myself And threw the key into that well. . I’ll save men from my shame Whilst hiding my contagious passion No one deserves to taste Decaying flesh as ration. . The line below the waste Is dangerous Any men who...

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
Her weekly commandments we caw in unison from our twin mountaintops: Twitbark and Facepalm. . She’s this millennium’s equivalent of an old-style Archbishop and we’d happily wrestle for the privilege . of placing, with our trembly fingers a diamond studded mitre . on her frail skull. It’s said to renew her...

Poetry
Kofi Fosu Forson
1. Love letters, beguiling Apocrypha, mad days as your tenant. In that housed hut we begged. Our bodies gymnastically coiled. Feet on my chest, arms in the air, walking all over me as if fire Were elemental. That this skinned structure, rib-caged, six-abbed, Hairless, phallus figmentus...