Isn’t every fruit soft, if you wait? In small bodies the time is softly passing. Peach had a twilight air. It wore a yellow curling-up sticker that read ‘gog de magog’ in black print (something from The Bible I think) with a picture of a purple desert tree and ‘the fruit of paradise’ in tiny print across the top and ‘paradiesisches obst’ along the bottom. Continue reading “Peach On The Beach by Kate Feld”
We arrived in a thunderstorm: lightning fingers shot down, pinning horizon
to dark highway. Then the low rumble. Taut Dakota midnight. For weeks
you’d made me promise to avoid photos, insisting I see firsthand the slopes
of ancient clay rising from the prairie. Rain fought the roof of our rental; Continue reading “Badlands by Betsy Housten”
Tom Jeffreys is an English author, critic, and editor. He is also, in his own words, “a reluctant traveller”.
In 2013, he was made redundant just as he and his wife – artist and writer Crystal Bennes – had to leave their flat in east London. They travelled for six months in South America, then lived for two years in Helsinki, where Crystal completed a masters’ degree in fine art. There was a year in Paris after that. Now they’re in Edinburgh. Continue reading “Tom Jeffreys: In Conversation with C.C. O’Hanlon”
Marrakesh, Old Town
Everyone seemed to have rotten, black, and missing front teeth. They were friendly and kept smiling and that’s how I saw they mostly had rotten, black and missing front teeth.
I couldn’t see a lot of the women’s teeth, only their eyes, and often not even. There were many women dressed from head to ankle, in long black fabrics, with layer upon layer covering skin, hands, hair, and some that covered the eyes, and with only a marginally thinner veil, so that everything was hidden, nothing to determine soul, being, nor Continue reading “Nothing Dries Sooner Than A Tear* by Joanna Pickering”
On the vast land of a hospital in Tokyo, there is a pond filled with plenty of water. Water springs up not only in the pond, but here and there. It is the source of a river. The underground water passes through the downtown of Tokyo and flows into Tokyo Bay. No one knows this is a water land and I’m dreaming of the ocean through the vapor. Continue reading “Waiting For The Ocean by hiromi suzuki”
Once young
The land meant everything
Patches of green and brown
Wild things and half wild critters
Cross our path
As we made our way along
Collecting small mysteries Continue reading “Wonderment by Tara Lynn Hawk”
You claim to make a new life
Then proceeded to backtrack
As you stay deep inside your edwardian
cottage of decay and old newspapers Continue reading “Chainsaw Demolition Waltz by Tara Lynn Hawk”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 