By Nell Regan The rooks that rise above the serried ranks of homes augur unease as though soil itself has not settled, knows not what memory knows (or what the body recalls and expects) except come spring: when a nudge of weed and wild flower show through, a ghosted version from below. At each roundabout […]
Category: Previous Publications
Notes From India
By Sujata Bhatt for Pearse Hutchinson, February 2012 2:00 am in Mumbai and the crows are still loud. They circle the trees – hundreds of them around our house. A crow has died and all the others keep cawing, cawing through the night into the morning – endlessly they keep on calling for days. I […]
Grey Heron Is Not A Hood Ornament
By John Kinsella The twelve-footer outboards in from the bay, its ingress watched by gulls and the odd jogger. The sea’s a glasstop, so the chevrons from the boat’s passage tamp the harbour’s walls. On its prow, a grey heron, still as sculpture, staring down the man tillering the motor. His haul under wraps. The […]
Elegy To The White Sea
By Anzhelina Polonskaya My countries and landssend your nights out for profit.O, White Sea nets,I am your fish.It’s over. Let all whom I lovedbe forgiven.I’ve lost the wordsor they’ve been burnt.Maybe the fishermen willrelease me into that cursed sea,looking into my eyes –With my fins, I’ll shield the boatfrom the white waves,and swim instinctivelyto the […]
A Springtime Day
By Vladimir Gandelsman A springtime day – May holidays, I guess –long fallen into my well of winter memories,like many others – into marine binoculars;a typical Leningrad day. Some Navy captaindrops by, a little buzzed, in full dress uniform –one of Mom’s coworkers, if I had to guess,and gives her a big book, and signs […]
Forest Park
By Howard Wright The starry track of the sun runs disorganisedacross the lake. Snow melt gurgles underwardsto a low stone bridge and a child’s gravel beach … All gone quiet. Nothing much is alive here,tree-trimmings and wood-cull, leaf-blood.Paths close their eyes as the forest thickens. A mist of dead needles; frizz and corrosion;a killer cabin, […]
Paschal Watering The Garden
By Paul Bregazzi Two women make their way from the field above the garden wending their way down the slope. He places his thumb over the spout of the spigot, fluming the water, bending to see its run-off, the carry of some dust, the soakage into the gravel layer. The women trill themselves through the […]