Journal

Ann Howells

Drenched in Spindrift Spindrift saturates my bones. Country night comes velvet black. Ebb tide sings my lullaby, atonal and aleatoric,…

4 years ago

Marc Janssen

Camp David The kitchen floor awash in clothes While flies library whisper around the sink. There is a hole the…

4 years ago

Gabrielle Langley

Bolshoi Ballet Tours the West: A Cold War Poem The word “defection” floats in the air. Sotto voce. The ability…

4 years ago

Carolyn Martin

Mosaic of a Spring Day in Quarantine From the mauve armchair in my living room: a flowering pink quince hosts…

4 years ago

Hannah Joyce

Future Nostalgia We ceased naming days when each one was copy-pasted from the last. We keep time now by the…

4 years ago

James Owens

Naive Morning I dreamed I solved the labyrinth of her fingerprints, of kissing the blue-veined hollows of her wrists with…

4 years ago

FOLIO: John Palen

Jack Pine             Squally Weather, Georgian Bay              --F.H. Varley, 1920 They call me the…

4 years ago

Vivienne Popperl

Sleepless Driving through the Karoo in the bright heat of a summer afternoon, torpid with sweat, wind flapping damp towels…

4 years ago