ONE POEM – Gerry Stewart

Spread out before you,
whipped and bright coloured,
dripping with sauces,
a world of unimagined flavours,
untranslatable.

ONE POEM – Ryan Clark

Below the wall the soil
leeches contaminants
from an artificial hill rising
out of the field like a wart.

ONE POEM – Barnaby Smith

the small hours are all about compost—
wanderlust of priceless larvae
& transcendent effect of unremarkable habits

ONE POEM – Kate J Wilson

you said it’s tradition in Spain that as the clock
strikes twelve we must scoff a grape a chime
one at a time, but quickly as any left over become
unsalvageable, each one a rotten, failing month.

The Piano Man – Frances Green

That night that the piano man and I first slept together was the night we discovered the pleasure of talking aloud about murder.