John McCullough

  XANTHIC   Some months all my thoughts are one colour. I hit a yellow mood and the world pours out its yolks: tall stacks of...
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John McCullough

And so I find myself stuck in the wrong century / like Peale, probing swampland for bones, / reassembling skeletons and stepping inside.

Martha Sprackland

I am thinking of you, and the bees are drowning / in the pool. The whole surface is a ballroom, // the tiny pieces move and coruscate and the air / is sticky with humming...

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

Roddy Lumsden

You can mythologise anywhere but you cannot / romanticise it, / or anyone. You hear the song. You know this: / the girl is Moira, / not Lolita and it's a scrappy rowan at best / not a lemon tree.

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