Mark A. Hill In the middle ages, the word topaz referred to any yellow gemstone,In modern times, it denotes only the silicate.Topaz is referred to in Exodus in the King James Bible,A few moments before you fold it up and nod. Beget is an archaic word the past is begot and the past participle is … Continue reading Topaz

            Tom Blake I have never trusted apples apples don’t inspire trust the world is green the world is red I have chopped up many a thing in my life some hard some soft I read the news through the window of a Radio Rentals in Luton town centre it was after an away game and … Continue reading What Had Ye For Supper Lord Donal’ My Son

            Tom Jenks our father’s ghost haunts the central reservation On the stretch of dual carriageway near the multiplex,amongst the low shrubs and dull grey pines. Why didn’t hechoose one of his favourite places, like the ice rink, or thewax museum, or the toffee apple stand at the petting zoo?But then he always loved being in … Continue reading Our Father’s Ghost

            Julian Dobson Sallows be thy name. Sallow as willow, as salix,sallow as sickly, saliva. This spongeof a hill, every footstep a font.Low cloud, stiff breeze. No shelter.Salvation? It is not worth the detour. Yoke My yoke is easy. The first few yardsare abominably marshy. A track is a streamby the wall: follow it, wade in … Continue reading A Lake District pilgrimage in the steps of Alfred Wainwright

            Daniel Nixon Out of season, the air around the slumpednets clings to every passer-by. The rustedblade of autumn light, dulled and heavy, hacks a path through the day. On the seawalla chipped china teacup, decorated with powderblue petals, sits out of focus and empty. The sea is inky black, annoyed and spitting.Closed and bathed in … Continue reading Saltwater

            Caleb Simon When autumn comes, it ripsthrough the horizon, strippingthe trees of their medals. The sky is blinding. It’s not fly-tipping, you decide,to peel off your skinand leave it by the stream. At least the crows talk to you, drop metacarpals and can tabs at your feet.You offer salted nuts in return. Scooping up loose dirt, you … Continue reading On the equinox you throw out your wardrobe

            Gordon Vells I know we haven’t been in contact for a whileyou sent some chaps with candlesa few years ago was itI left out cookies but they didn’t seem to notice I hope all is well with youfrom over here it’s hard to tellbut your garden it still looks beautifulme I try to keep the … Continue reading The Man in the Moon Sends a Voice Note

            Selima Hill The Canteen I never went near the stupid place. I lived on dates like George Bernard Shaw. They found me on the bathroom floor, apparently, beside a large salmon-pink hot-water-bottle, although by then it was the height of summer.              The Cockroach When he woke up one morning under the old sandwich-toaster, he … Continue reading The Person with a Cauliflower

            Courtney Conrad The salon was a field of sunflowerswith good posture. Black leather chairspadded with sofa pillows for hairstylesspanning three-plus hours. Sundayswere mother-daughter days, melanated facesradiated as heads leaned back into basinsfor scalp massages. Under the blow dryer,seeds cracked to speak of troublesome children, marital affairs and church prophecies.I dreamt of taking you here.On what … Continue reading Sunshine

            Alexandra Melville When the courier arrives and if the product matchesthe description. How sweet or bitter a clementine tastesand how much pith sleeps under the skin.If the cat is sick on our bed or the floor.Whether my period comes. If you hidea bottle at the back of the cabinet.How much rain falls in September.Whether my … Continue reading Step 1/12: I will be powerless over