Craig Dobson




The Art of Tipping


The Eastern European concierge

can’t hide his billionaire-stare’s

disappointment as the revolving

doors deliver me: small change

at the ready should my cheap case

require his studied servility.


A dance of mauled politesse

gets us into the lift’s awkwardness –

Freed from its stifling proximity,

we’re ignored by chambermaids lugging

sheets along the featureless corridors

of lower floors, far beneath the suites.


He wheels my case in, hands me

the key with patronizing expectancy.

Yes, thank you, yes… I mumble,

my hand extended too soon,

something more than insubstantial

in its clammy, proffered pound.




Craig Dobson’s had poems in The London Magazine, North, Rialto, Agenda, Stand, New Welsh Review, Poetry Ireland Review, Under the Radar, Orbis, Butcher’s Dog, Interpreter’s House, Poetry Salzburg Review, Frogmore Papers, Boscombe Revolution and Bad Kid Catullus pamphlets and Poetry Daily website.

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Daryl Muranaka



Politics and Other Distractions


wildflowers in the yard

waiting to be mowed


in the forest

no tree grows

too fast or too high


the earth moves

on the floor

the baby sleeps


black mulch

thrown on new snow

as if that helps


in the dark

the roosters crow at threats,

real and imagined





Daryl Muranaka lives in Boston with his family. In his spare time, he enjoys aikido and taijiquan and exploring his children’s dual heritages. His first book, Hanami, was released by Aldrich Press in April 2015.



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Kitty Coles




When I Heard The Trees Speak


I turned to see your face

and it was still.

So, to be certain, I took

your hand and whispered,

‘Do you hear that?’

Blankly, you answered, ‘What?’,

finding in the daily sounds of these woods –

the wind among high branches,

crushed leaves beneath our feet –

nothing worth noticing or speaking of.

I stood there, silent,

and my heart leapt hard

under my ribs, rushing my blood about.

I touched my fingers to the closest bark

and felt, below the crust,

the tendons shift, the tongue

rising and falling with the words.





Kitty Coles‘ poems have been widely published in magazines and anthologies.  She was one of the two winners of the Indigo Dreams Pamphlet Prize 2016 and her debut pamphlet, Seal Wife, was published in 2017.

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Susan Taylor




Whipped In


When you walk idyllic countryside,

spare a thought for the hunted ones;

red hairs on a barbed wire fence

caught where Madam Fox bombed through.


The chase so hard her body fluids boiled

as she collapsed in a patch of undergrowth.

Master-of-Hounds watched his Whipper-In

with blood specks on his white horse.





Susan Taylor, one time shepherd, is now working on a poetry show about the benefit of wolves. She has seven published collections and a new pamphlet, The Weather House, written in collaboration with Simon Williams and published by Indigo Dreams.


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Susan Richardson





The call to bright lights is a whisper,

tempting souls into the clutches of

dreams that hang on a celluloid precipice.

Los Angeles turns us into letches

who lurk under the wings of angels,

covered in soot from generations

of sweeping up discarded morals.

Decrepit men, slathered in wealth,

chase the skirts of simpering women

with molded cheek bones and noses

they weren’t born with.

Carbon copy blondes trample

over the backs of comrades, and reach

through barbed wire for a glimmer of fame.

They come in droves and shed their skins,

willing to do unthinkable things for

just a drop of starlight on their tongues.





Susan Richardson is living, writing and going blind in Los Angeles. She shares a home with an Irishman, 2 pugs and 2 cats. She was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa in 2002, and in addition to poetry, she writes a blog called Stories from the Edge of Blindness. Her work has been published in: Stepping Stones Magazine, Wildflower Muse, The Furious Gazelle, The Hungry Chimera, Sheila-Na-Gig, Chantarelle’s Notebook, Foxglove Journal, Literary Juice, Sick Lit Magazine, Amaryllis, and The Anapest Journal, with pieces forthcoming in Eunoia Review.  She was also awarded the Sheila-Na-Gig Winter Poetry Prize and will be featured in the Literary Juice 2018 Q&A Series.

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Niamh Twomey




Your Road


It’s funny

When you get to know a road

So well–

Your road.


You know

Without looking up

When the green light

Is giving you the nod.


You know

To speed up

Past the house with the dog

Who chases cars.


You know

The semi-tone leap

Over the hump-backed bridge

And the dance the bushes do

When there’s a truck

Around the corner.


You know

The house with all the cats

In the window


And all year round

You slow down to watch the sheep

And then their lambs

And then they’re sheep again.





Niamh Twomey is a young Irish writer and student of English and French in University College Cork.  After winning the Hotpress Write Here Write Now  competition in 2016, her work has been published in Hotpress Magazine, Quarryman, Flight Writing, and Quill & Parchment.

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Jenny Moroney



Boxed Dusk
A beginning of an evening was grasped by the room

whose sparse light seeped in from a solitary window.

Lain on the bed, a pencilled in person noted the square

of sunset with its pastel pinks, blues and greens

layered over a charcoal city skyline.


Moving their hand against the square

so the light was sieved through their skin like dust,

they noted how this beginning of an evening

could be anything from a painting to a life.




Jenny Moroney studied BA English Literature with Creative writing at UEA and now lives, works and writes in South London.

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