the cake is made of Walthamstow
a dense and glutinous Walthamstow
we are going to make Walthamstow
a Titanic success for Walthamstow
Tag: porridge magazine
Back Home in Old Kentucky – Bailey Vandiver
Kentucky governor Happy Chandler once said Kentuckians are always either coming home or thinking about coming home. On the day that tornadoes devastated my home state, I was longing to be home. It was December 11, 2021, and I woke up in a New York City hotel room to the news that tornadoes had ripped…
ONE POEM – Claire Sosienski Smith
paring knife, won’t use it to make
the pierogi. The potato goes
soft in the microwave,
the onion falls apart
and fries itself.
ONE POEM – Noemi Gunea
I wanted you so much
I started making things up
ONE POEM – Hideko Sueoka
Bright rays reflect, shape, shake her portrait on the water skin
and it’s broken, burnt, soon gone.
ONE POEM – Bernadette Gallagher
Get some hens
dig up the garden
sow and plant.
ONE POEM — Judith Amanthis
From the yew-dark wool you pulled
over my eyeball,
knit one, maul one,
you made a beam
ONE POEM — Matthew Moniz
But Jesus never saved the birds. A bird
has never sinned. They have no need for grace,
salvation, guilt, contrition, holy words,
ONE POEM — Oliver Sedano-Jones
I walk along the beach; I find a bad thing so beautiful
That now it’s a good thing
ONE POEM — Toby Jackson
But Krakow, why am I in Krakow looking for size eight shoes
following a strolling man with a hand-shaped dent in his hat?
ONE POEM – Greg Jensen
sharp as a thorn.
I held on
to whatever
it had been
at the start of existence,
a stem cell
When Will My Sense of Linear Time Come Back From the War? – Nat Guest
Time’s gone weird, hasn’t it? Hasn’t time gone weird? I’m really struggling with it at the moment. I don’t know what day it is. I’m not sure whether it’s day. It’s 2023 next year. It’s still March 2020. It’s the dead zone between Christmas and New Year. It’s been Wednesday for months. I’ll be dead…
Porridge 