Miklos Szentkuthy

Miklos Szentkuthy

As one’s arms run around the girl’s waist like crooked, decayed Iron Age scissors in the display cases of museums, one’s legs and back wish to scatter in the world, to dance at one and the same time in a thousand widely separated places.
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Angela Topping

Angela Topping

Imagine being / Master of the Stool, having to wipe / that gargantuan arse.../ ...Think of that face// glancing towards Tower Green, as Anne / prepared to bare her innocent neck, / then turning away, to go and marry Jane.
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Photo by Karl Hurst

Alistair Noon

The old man in the next door flat, / brownshirt, turned Christian Democrat, / then Social. Oh he drank drank drank. / But his bedroom sink always stank...
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photo by Chris Scott

Ryan Van Winkle

you begin to feel / like a piece of wheat / standing up straight – / like other living things – // a tractor coming towards you / at 500 stalks a second
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Rebecca Tamás

Rebecca Tamás

the song is blue and huge / it has never touched soil // the song is not saying / please come home / in a way that is so beautiful / it becomes shameless
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Recent

Angela Topping
Angela Topping

Angela Topping

Photo by Karl Hurst

Alistair Noon

photo by Chris Scott

Ryan Van Winkle

Rebecca Tamás

Rebecca Tamás

Poetry

Angela Topping

Angela Topping

Photo by Karl Hurst

Alistair Noon

photo by Chris Scott

Ryan Van Winkle

Rebecca Tamás

Rebecca Tamás

Jack Underwood

Jack Underwood

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Fiction

Miklos Szentkuthy

Miklos Szentkuthy

Ondrej

Ondrej Stefanik

Elizabeth Tannen

Elizabeth Tannen

Photo by Dinu Lazăr

Bogdan Suceava

author profile photo - edited

Diana Petrova

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