
STAR POems: Horizon
At a head-stroke you sail along sound waves throat travelling to some rainbow’s end in your voice-box-boat. We calibrate vibrations in Hertz. At 25 – 50, the frequency of purrs: the same tremor of [… read more ]
At a head-stroke you sail along sound waves throat travelling to some rainbow’s end in your voice-box-boat. We calibrate vibrations in Hertz. At 25 – 50, the frequency of purrs: the same tremor of [… read more ]
Following an unflinching account of her recent suicide attempt published on S&C earlier this week, Emily Priest returns with a video of her slam poetry performance of Turn It Off, a poem exploring the reality [… read more ]
At 2 a.m. I saw her – She hung her body like meat in the entrance to the pier – that pleasure palace. She’s haloed by a streetlamp opposite Peggy Sue’s. She takes my [… read more ]
– a little wax from melted candle – a gentle press – feather on frame we near completion. at the edge, we pray for guidance and hope the artifice holds. will a playful stroke’s [… read more ]
The Journeys Festival International launched last week with the opening of the Aspex Gallery Artist in Residence programme: poet Majid Dhana’s and artist Natalia Michalska’s collaboration exhibition Look Up, which explores the stories and experiences of asylum seekers and refugees in [… read more ]
Gridlocked isle of my defence you sheltered me from French-based threats, but by the Solent, not your ships; great hulks of grey with glorious names: Invincible and Sir Galahad, moored in time-lines, a fine line between naval [… read more ]
Elaborate thoughts of life and existence – Xeroxed repetition of thoughts of love and sex Imply a plan that may not exist, and I Seem to spend too much time on these subjects Though perhaps [… read more ]
By Simon Sykes At one point some way along our path in life, I woke in Verge’s place, Amongst the dark wood, within the city, a wilderness, harsh and brute. Verge, having saved me [… read more ]
Superior the knowing human glance that dreams, in lightly jostling verticals, ideas that make the candelabras dance, the whitened tips of candle flames that call to mind a burning icy chalice raised beneath the [… read more ]
i.m. Edward King (1862-1951) The painting looks a bit off, wonky walls splay from the vertical, the roof is gone. Light streams from between colonnades like flames. It might be sunbeams through the guildhall’s [… read more ]
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