Poetry

Poetry
Martin Appleby
I used to be super into the movement tracked down every movie either on DVD or pirated rips whatever I could get my hands on I loved the DIY ethos the rawness the realness I related to the characters the slackers the losers the social awkwardness the stunted dialogue and those movies and that style the characters and themes have...

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
That time of the week when bachelor farmers decide, on balance, not to string themselves up in the outhouse, bravely switch on the wireless instead; . on Official Radio Marion the defunct feminist-to-a-moderate-extent has a few old pals around for two thrilling hours of cream tea and general...

Poetry
Name
hushed confessions screamed into the pillow each night before you cry yourself to sleep . no one wants to become the crusty old man . it’s much more romantic to die young, full of promise and potential . but on the other side of those myths are nothing . a vast crease of...

Poetry
David Piersol
Dear Georges, Dearest sweet mystic of mine, you saint. My boy Venus, philosopher of purest love. I’m cute so you’ll feed me lesser animals, & that makes you the animal-killer here. You talk about “violating” this or that, but you’ve got it backward: killing...

Poetry
Kurt Newton
ROBERT lies behind leaves and grass. I drive by on my way to work and offer a glance. ROBERT lies beyond the pavement's edge, at the foot of a stone outcropping— a natural shelter from the rain. It used to be I’d wonder who ROBERT was and who...

Poetry
Kevin Higgins
In memoriam Tin Man Ó’Tuathail esteemed literary critic & political commentator . You weren’t, like others, born of Babycham and contraceptive malfunction but emerged fully realised —someone else’s brilliant idea— during an editorial conference of a magazine that went on to be important; your hands clean as mild green Fairy...

Poetry
Lickspittle Scumsquirter
We, the Scum Gentry with our imaginary top hats and canes and our supercilious sneers as we swagger down imaginary cobble-stoned streets, spitting on the rich who line the sidewalks in dumb-struck awe. . Resplendent in our morning coats with tails a-flutter and knee-high boots good for stomping heads in the...

Poetry
Rory Dwayne
Dear Darkness, . The sun has fallen, were you a part of this? Darkness owns my soul I can’t part with this, Shadow of mind, night was the start of this. . Moonlight shines through the attic windows, Mist arises with lone leaves falling while the wind blows. Darkness advances...