This week has been taken over by finishing off my tax return. I finally got it done on Thursday night and it felt like a huge weight had lifted from me once I pressed submit, even though this meant I…
Sunday Poem – Tom Cleary
I’m writing this feeling very delicate as I went out last night to a friends 50th birthday party. Lady C, as she shall be called on this blog had no idea her husband had planned a surprise party and thought…
Sunday Poem – Rose Cook
I had every intention of starting my blog this morning but was foiled by my laptop and its strange insistence on updating itself without my permission. It updated itself for about 2 hours so I gave up in the end…
Sunday Poem – Peter Sirr
The Capsule – Peter Sirr When it came to it, nothing we wanted would fit. We stood on the road and packed what we could, the tickets and music and sealable wit, whatever we had, whatever thought good. What…
Sunday Poem – Ian Harker
THE LIONS OF LEEDS TOWN HALL – Ian Harker Drawn from life at London Zoo you could catch one from the corner of your eye curling an oversize paw like a cat in a square of sunlight on the kitchen…
Sunday Poem – James Byrne
Diagnosis Inc. – James Byrne You are two oranges shy of sangria You chumpchange in a clackdish You the flensed soldier, egg-runny on the inside You frogging deadline after deadline You caught in a Swiss chokehold You feeding the duckboards…
Sunday Poem – Eileen Sheehan
some contradictions that beset the ex-wife’s brain – Eileen Sheehan When I got your news I sent a message saying, I hope you all have a great day out. This was no lie, but in fairness, it was only part…
Sunday Poem – Choman Hardi
Researcher’s Blues – Choman Hardi Every day I try to lose them in the streets, leave them behind in a bend in the road and keep on walking. But they follow me everywhere, their voices combining into a hum from…
Sunday Poem – Damian Rogers
There’s No Such Thing as Blue Water – Damian Rogers I’ve been thinking that montage is a mental technique for accepting unity as a convulsive illusion. I feel sick. I hate it when my stories have holes, though I suspect…
Sunday Poem – Matthew Siegel
For Bryan, 13, who sleeps through Li-young Lee By Matthew Siegel Normally I would snap my fingers behind your ear but it’s summer and I understand why you are sick of poems. Normally, I would wake you with my teacher…