by RODNEY WILLIAMS on geometrical pavers in an urban garden she offers her pair of guests Italian torte – keen to host since such time she hastens in sketching her lifelong lines of work mixing psychology with dance as therapy…
by RODNEY WILLIAMS hill-based training ride highway one water bottle full tyre pressure right solo run today tête de la course lanterne rouge too red tail light ute out front …
by LYNDAL TURNER I remember how it was to stand, a child on the cracked concrete stoop of the old shed, arms up like blinkers, glad hands buried in the sky’s blue. Tractors would come and go; trucks with bellies…
by LYNDAL TURNER The slow boil of summer dusk, a blood red sky darkens and drains to black behind the precise silhouette of trees and the outline of hay; rolled, wrapped and stacked along the fenceline. In the distance, low…
by LYNDAL TURNER In the orchard, the air was cooler and a kind of verdancy teased at the ends of our hair. Industry buzzed and wheeled between the branches and sweet fruit hung in globes as bright as any strands…
by YVETTE STUBBS slodging through floor detritus and old toilet paper rolls we’ve forgotten what it’s like to be civilised, and we are getting to like it no bras, no undies, no care saving on shampoo and deodorant too. yeah…
by YVETTE STUBBS The birds are restless again a haze of smoke smudges the mountains crows fly with starlings curtaining the air with feathered fear where is the fire? Are they doing controlled burnings near? I am restless now Birds…
by YVETTE STUBBS Night owls prowl It’s snowing in Scotland The sky is black I watch house hunters abroad on mute Timer to go off in 60 minutes It stops the chatter in my bones It’s night Cicadas rasp their…
by PAT SAUNDERS bream bite when the tide is high the tranquil river mouth gasps for air kissing the rapacious windy wild sea its swollen banks our sunlounge as we patiently await the serendipitous nibble the line requires little weight…
by PAT SAUNDERS dad’s calm hand clutches mine his southern british lilt coaxes tiny crawling snail-like me onto ancient timber planks beneath which grasping wind and wild water wait to swallow me look up he says I baulk glimpsing whitewash…
