By: Goutam Roy Deep withina remote Cumbrian cave,where silence has enduredfor millennia,lay a child—not yet four—whom archaeologistshave named Ossick Lass.She was laid to restwith quiet intention,in the early ageof Mesolithic people—one of the first tracesof human remembrance.Time has not preserved…
By: KJ Hannah Greenberg Panoply Magnificent displays of objects, some of okenite, others obsidian, arrangedPer social media’s dictates and other niche authorities’ mores, glitter akin toFool’s gold. Sadly, “impressive” arrays of goods often lack the beauty of Australian MistCats else…
By: Rose Blake Darkness When darkness settles—what happens to the light, what happensto laughter, what happens to mymight when darkness drownsthe corners of my room. I curl within and hold on—like I’ve got a friend in my inner tombwhen the…
By: James Aitchison (Scottish Mcdada attributed to the Gude Wallace, circa 1527) And thus Lord Scroope the young the fairsaw ships cleave the brine to whereglows the larch’s vivid greenand Bogles when first seenthrough the cordage sangthe hoar frost round…
By: Daniel Cartwright-Chaouki Wingspan A flock of gulls mob a blackbirdbeyond the garden fence Two stories higha fat shirtless man washes dishes at the sink We take the babyto visit the old man in the nursing home At the petrol…
By: Claudia Lopez Where once embroiled in a cool embrace,You stand away, the picture of disgrace:Behind, a fallen fruit, a rotten pair,Where once was love, dark hatred fills the air.How could she leave you playing on your own?The monkey bars…
By: Cynthia Pitman The Art of Immortality La Roche-Cotard Cave in Franceand Ardales Cave in Spain,inhabited by Neanderthalsat least 60 millennia ago,have revealed on their wallsexpressions of art.Straight and curving flutingsmade by fingertips dragged through clayand crowds of handprints stenciledwith…
By: Byron Beynon. AFRICAN DAISIES The family who’d movednext to my father’s houseasked the name of the flowersthat grew outside his porch.“African Daisies”, he said.Unfolding with the sunthey open like a greeting,an innocent warmtha remedy of colourswhich smileeach one a…
By: James Aitchison When daylight sets,grief shrinks the strongest.We who survive walk innights darker now,and shadows corruptthe sunlight.We grieve another’ssparse moment of existence,their speck of sand in time,and when the blows and pain are over,a soul that seeks no morewill…
By: Steven Bruce The Miracle on Mundane Street The morning cameand didn’t try to flog mea miracle. The coffee tasted like coffee,the path beside the river was dry,and the crowsconducted their usualcrooked business. Nothing historic happened. The world offeredan empty…