James McDermott trimming my tash over the sink     felled hairsform into a blonde man’s clip-on ponytail heave it out the basin to chuck it buttwo ponytails     binned in there     like dead rats stagger to stairs to spot ten ponytailsone on each step down to the living room his armchair has a ponytail     TVmy crisp sandwich doesn’t have a hair … Continue reading Ponytails

            Kayleigh Jayshree My landlord emailed me a month ago and told meabout the dream he’d had. He said he was in chargeof all the houses in South East England. He hadthousands of emails to answer and could not hirean estate agent. None of the houses had mould. Theprices kept going down because of the government.He … Continue reading Contact

In this essay on Emily Dickinson and ‘anorexic aesthetics’, Charlotte Shevchenko Knight blends close reading and autobiography, critical analysis and personal narrative. Moving between Dickinson scholarship, Sad Girl Theory, editorial history, psychiatric literature, recovery narratives and Tumblr-era anorexia discourse, this essay traces various forms of inexpressibility, from the ‘quiet rooms’ of Dickinson’s dashes to the … Continue reading Emily Owns the Void

            Jayant Kashyap This evening I’m not writing a bird;nests have shut their doors and I cannotremember the structure of wings—instead I’m writing arrows, burnt trees,myths and faux Greek tragedies: in one there isa woman, doing nothing (or she is notallowed to); in another a manis stripping naked and moving towardswater; in another the earth is … Continue reading Annotation on Ecopoetry

            Bryony Littlefair When I first moved to the cityI lived on the 29th floor where the view was wideand the lift was narrow and my Polish flatmatemade soft, white dumplings filling up the freezer.Everything was cold, high up. I often had a lonely, professional feeling.Like I was an air traffic controller. Bryony Littlefair is a … Continue reading London

            Jasmine Gibbs                                                   Bitter January morn.We shun the desolate promenade for a momentto let the old girls in the café gnaw our ears offabout the dead season, smokeblue fade tingingthe colours on bygone circus posters. ‘Right grisly’they tut. That we do not have a thousand wordsfor grey remains an oversight. Today, the sky’spaint shade matches the … Continue reading The Dead Season

            Ryan Collins Too many new Americans speak in reassuring            tones & say not a word to be believedat this late hour in the maw of end-stage            capital. A jingle jangle thesis is as usefula currency as any to bang a gong to            or keep the lights on. W/ any luck, aftergreat pain, the pain & our feeling form            into … Continue reading For Fong

            Jen Feroze She has been wonderingwhether it’s possibleto be only a little bit hit by a car. Nothing that would mean metal pins,or the moving or removing of internal organs, no,nothing dramatic. A dark orchard of bruising.A nice clean breakand something in plaster. She would be expected to lie low for a bit,to be under … Continue reading Self-Care

            Cecilia Knapp you have a childhooduncles in Mondeosbig pine scentwomen assemblingmeat platters in the kitchenone water slide in Tenerifethat sun burn on your backafter all thisyou have cork coasterscheese plant splayingin the tiny basement flatsomehow, a husbandcupboards of butter beanssuspended in their own juicesan ageing father who stainshis white beard with soupyou have a set … Continue reading list the facts and they will stick