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  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    to be read with the hand over the eyes   so here I am again, telling you all something you don’t really want to hear and don’t really care about I’m spitting sparks at you to listen up, goddammit because you’ve never listened before and you haven’t heard and haven’t seen and hav...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    My book hasn’t got any threes. I haven’t got a Trinity to compare you to, nothing holy to rub in around you, no myrrh or gold or incense.   Rather, we are the three peaks on Whitney’s east face, and one of us is skypilot and another granite and one a Phoebus Apollo.   We’re W...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    A man takes a brush and paints a woman. He dips his brush and strokes the canvas. He swirls and sighs and caresses. He feasts his eyes and fingers and nose on her. He puts a mirror in her hand and calls the painting Vanity. A man steps into a gallery and looks at a woman. He licks his lip...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Me pusieron el nombre de una mujer de los sueños de un hombre. Mi nombre puede tener dos sílabas, o tres, o cuatro. Tengo dos otros nombres, y los todos significan “bendita.” Pues, yo no necesito ser bendecida, y yo puedo decidir la cantidad de aliento que las personas dan a mí...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I love you but I don't think I could live with you, said the daytime girl to the nighttime. I couldn't go without you, but I couldn't stay with you, said the nighttime girl to the daytime. So they chased each other across continents and wore house keys instead of promises around their...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Modernists will tell you of blue, green, grey, transparent. I could tell you glas. Your glas eyes, the glas glas grass of home. I don’t feel safe with the modernists’ specificity, their cold-blooded naming of things. Your eyes are not blue or green or grey, they are glas; take it as you...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    I went to read a book by the lake at 2:18 this afternoon, because I'd lied about needing to be somewhere at 2:30, and I needed a place to go. So I went. I bent the front cover back, so no passersby could see the uncircumcised man on the front, because it was Yehuda Amichai, who knows lapsed J...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    And what of you should I have? With a heart such as yours made with such feathers and the air drumming along through such vessels so unburdened by platelets so thin and clear and every desultory bone in that skeleton sea glare stretched by tongs and hardened and skin such ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Hedgerows, wild ponies, two earthenware mugs of tea after lunch. The lush spring of the sod beneath your rain boots. Were it a starlit evening, the scent of your drink would dance away from you as poetry, screening the river from view- you’d think of a lover’s breath, perhaps....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    When I heard that some nameless Antigone had buried you in the hot earth, my first thoughts were for your eyes and scars, the red sand slipping beneath your lashes, between the spaces where comrades slit you open and fixed life back into your body with polydioxanone threads. I wanted to rea...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Life’s no fairytale- (spoiler alert everyone’s eaten in the end) but I can give you half a story here. A melting ice cream cone, mint chip, fallen from the yanked hand of a child. A maths test with a red A- in the upper corner, odd circular wavers in the paper, a stiff smear, lost som...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    You tripped on an enemy scalp, left littered on the cutting-room tiles with the rest of the coiling celluloid tripes – over-exposed, bleached out, blotched – the stills from a life I don't want....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    To be taped into your mind’s photo album - the two of us, forks and knives in hand, knees brushing beneath the thick-woven tablecloth draped over a sharp-cornered table tucked by two great planes of glass. The clouds devouring each other, and a great smashing of light falling over us lik...
  • Poetry > Haiku
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    We walk together, on the thin ceiling of Hell, and gaze at flowers....
  • Fiction > Romance
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    Listen to me. Maybe it won't get better. It might get worse. Or, you might stand up strong, or you could twist it the other way ‘round, make it something new. Perhaps paradise is drinking age at last in a gay bar: kiss their brows, love. Seven, twelve, sixteen, fifty - it wasn’t the s...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    They asked us, you know, how a fish could write a poem about the water. I think, a how could a fish not write a poem about the water? Is the water not everything the fish knows, feels, breathes; is the water not too cold, too hot, full of food or bereft of life? Twenty-seven sardine-ja...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Angels do not die at the point of a knife, but does not love erase as sure as death? The finality of consumption, satiation, planets swallowed by their stars, skin melting like flung candle wax into shapeless pools. They both are our nature and our escape from it; crashing this borrowed body ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    No titanium, no gasoline, no telephones. No genetics, no Gatling guns; only falling water, sheep, sunset colours. Only that in this language. In this language only the colour of a salmon’s gills, the love for one more than family but not kin, no skyscrapers, no torches, nothing of tempe...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Messages over a phone line. A language you don't speak. Vibrations on a wire, words lost in the air....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Nothing starts with your eyes on it. A cigarette trailing smoke like a body bleeding out, ethanol kisses and fault-lines through words. Nobody gets story arcs, or a moment when you think, That. That’s what’s going to end it all. So no clever foreshadow, no underlying message. We all ...
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    Do you want to tell me a lie? We’re as dirty as the ashen sky inside, and I want something like a firecracker, exploding in the troubled night, so for just a second I can ignore everything, and remember that the colours were beautiful....
  • Poetry > Free Verse
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    And a kiss is step one of seduction, she says. I think she's wrong, I think she had me with the glow of her skin with the window open, and the way her black hair caught the light like the feathers of a starling, bottle green and purple, or the curve of her forearm against a half-written essa...
  • Poetry > All Poetry
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    Siana says, “F--- you,” with that static beating condescension as she drops that one book on your desk and turns on her heel to Go Away and i hum god save the queen because sometimes humour is the only thing that keeps me from losing it. at the opera for some reason and she touches my arm and...
  • Fiction > Thriller/Mystery
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    Run, run, run. Combat boots on dirt, wind in hair, the shocks running up and down legs, the tug low in the belly and the honey-burn of dusty air in the throat. Running. He’s been running ever since he can remember. Euryalus, the runner. The beardless boy who’s still a man, because who can go thr...
  • Fiction > Realistic Fiction
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    The man kneeling on the tiled floor scrubbing has been there for three days. He’s been off the plane for four. Scrub. He has two bottles on either side of him. The open one is a white plastic jug of bleach, cap beside it. The other, still sealed, is a container of liquid ammonia. Scrub....

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