By Matthew Dodd It was early in the morning, and for the first time in the year, snow was falling.  Plumes danced down through the

by Charles FitzGerald Desperation smells like curdled milk. A persistent, rancid odour which sits in nostrils, clings on  clothes and spreads like oil. Tessa could

By Rory McAlpine ‘Insects are drawn to carcasses. They swarm above them- like the ragged form of a departing soul’. (Excerpt from The Meaning of

By Rory McAlpine It consumes you, a dinner party such as this. You become no longer a person but an omnipresent host. You are the

By Matthew Dodd. In a deckchair under the late afternoon sun, he sat lazily writing in a worn leather pocketbook. A pale blue linen shirt

By Tom Edgar Gertrude: Hamlet, thou hast thy father much offended. Hamlet: Mother, you have my father much offended. He stands on the Thames foreshore,

  Haar: a cold sea fog, (colloquial Scottish).  Because no one can see what happens, happens among the Haar.   You find yourself along the coastline

By Tom Edgar There is a restaurant in Montmartre, a few hundred metres away from the Basilica of Sacré-Coeur, down a backstreet where the narrow

ALERT ALERT
You should see my journal, equal parts
gibberish and manifesto babyyy.

Time enough has passed,
For my eyes and ears to cool,
For my willing hands to pick a pen
Whose nib begins to drool.

Wearing her like a suit
While having dinner with her friend
And wondering if I should undress
For when this night comes to an end,
Slide her off and hang her on a chair