Animal Anthem- Robert Boucheron

“Come to the next potluck supper for Voice of the Turtle. They told me to invite you.”     “I wouldn’t fit in, darling. Like an onion in a bed of roses.”     “How do you know? You haven’t even met them. You could bring your eggplant dish. What’s it called?”     “Ratatouille. It has other things in it.”… Continue reading Animal Anthem- Robert Boucheron


School Mornings- Anne Bevan

Winter mornings we cycled in the pristine darkness, Freezing hands in coat pockets. The day was nothing, yet. A burst of voices broke the frosty magic. As the sky lightened from a watery east, The school coach approached over the hilltop. Settling low in the threadbare seat, I closed my eyes and pretended to sleep.… Continue reading School Mornings- Anne Bevan

The Speed of Light- The Man in the Black Pyjamas

The speed of light is fairly fucking slow when you’re broke and wondering if the power’s been cut off. We usually went months without paying it, so when I came in from work in the evening the pause between the switch clicking and the bulb lighting up was long enough for me to realise I’d… Continue reading The Speed of Light- The Man in the Black Pyjamas

In Passing (Life on the street)- Howard Kerr

A monochrome of boho days segue one another surreptitiously. Endless pantomimes of idle chatter flutter by. Cantilever bridge, a one stop halting site for gossip and suspense. Small talk, bespoke winged creature, Combe of pleuron. Turin shroud spotter in the mise en scene melting pot. The spirited stride of pavement strollers prompted by agenda. Metatarsals… Continue reading In Passing (Life on the street)- Howard Kerr

Field Of Grace- Bríon Hoban

Benjamin Gracefield was not the type of man to let a little thing like death get in the way of his instructions being followed. His sons would get their money, his will explained, provided they oblige his final request. His funeral would end with his coffin being opened up so that the entire community might… Continue reading Field Of Grace- Bríon Hoban

History Repeated. – Attracta Fahy

Once it was the colonists, now it’s the banks, poor, rich, and poor again. Evicted, they search for a new home, a new land, a better life. Poor, defeated bodies, burdened with shame. No warmth or compassion in oppressors, hearts of stone. Our homeless, brothers, sisters, our children aimlessly drift, daily wake to morning sky,… Continue reading History Repeated. – Attracta Fahy