We only say it correctly when we’re learning to spell it, a hint of brew, this month more soft-spoken than the last, and short – though Valentine roses’ petals fall before ice melts. Oh, some whisper it as a synonym for claustrophobia, closing down or slamming doors so fast that cold lurks abandoned out there where invisibles moan and something smelly hides under the front steps.Read more "February"
Let Things Slide in Corona Time Does the dust on the table matter so much? If the sun filtering through window highlights neglect. Do I count days from my last hairwash? When it hangs in locks of dread and the mirror declares it’s time. Vacuum up dog hair? So grateful to have dogs, comics who […]Read more "Let Things Slide in Corona Time"
All the mournful songs They pick the finest days To play from the treetops Where the orioles whistle And dogs howl at the feet Wailing branches bridge Into dirges at sunset When I go out for a walk Along the shore – Saturnine sea sighing To my face as I gather Pebbles for a headstone. […]Read more "All the mournful songs"
River Dogs River folk have destroyed the bridge beneath an obsolete moon their dogs run wild lizards grasped tightly in their iron jaws beneath an iron moon the bridge yaws empty a tracery of absence where the bridge once existed dogs laugh into the throat of history observing the ongoing battle between freshness and salt jellyfish encroach […]Read more "River Dogs"
Gareth Culshaw lives in Wales. His first collection of poetry is The Minerout (2018) by Futurecycle. In 2020, his second collection, called Shadows of Tryfan is released. He is currently on an MFA at Manchester Met. His biggest poetry fans are his two dogs, Jasper & Lana. My Ears Wake First This early in the […]Read more "My Ears Wake First"
Philip Newton is a writer and musician living in Oregon. His novel, Terrane, was published in September by Unsolicited Press, and his poetry has appeared in magazines from Portland, Oregon to Bangalore, India. Chasing Broken Language I forgot to write this Now look what’s happened It’s all gone running off Lost and panting Nosing here and […]Read more "Chasing Broken Language"
Three Dogs I watched three dogs play in the surf today, they were not heartbroken at all. They had loved, but it was pure: sea, air, salt, sun.Read more "Three Dogs"