Poetry Weekly – Kei Patrick
Bazaar. We aar we aar bazaar bazaar we cannot help but lose time lose it whatever we aar we do bazaar ………things.
Poetry Weekly – Goodbyes
(a) conversation I laughed and laughed through a mouthful of beads, teeth crunching plaster tongue folding plastic to powdery wisps of lettered strings. Inside his eyes stood a tiny fist wristless swinging and knocking in reach — “The night isn’t always shouting and crowded.” Our br
Poetry Weekly – Flux
Flux Kei Patrick ………………………What ……………………………………….am …………………………….I ………̷
Vida Adamczewski – Poetry Weekly
We leave bits of our bodies everywhere which means the hoover is always full of skin She spent the morning pulling his hair out of the plughole Felted into fibre glass, her hair Chokes up the hairbrush. When she is half awake, She dreams about it falling out in clumps. She’d look odd bald; an
Bugs & Caterpillars – Poetry Weekly
Caterpillar By Adrian Hobbs It was small at first, the mark he left. Awake, I felt along my flank and noticed, for the first time, a hole, cylindrical and exact, bored through me like a flawless bullet. It did not take much light to see the redness on my hand, the loss that left me […]
China and Clay
It was the morning of Christmas Eve – never a big deal in their part of Calcutta – when Putul came in with her mother in a hand-me-down jumper. The Mistress of the Mansion was awake, sweeping the dead leaves in the garden towards the southern wall. She never truly honoured her title, which irked
Home
The cars make incredible noise as they slowly kill the environment; eyes long and yellow, their bodies parading their own masochism. And I would love to be angry. Because I know they’re slowly killing me and everyone, I know everyone is slowly killing everyone. (I don’t want to sound numb
Shibuya hospital
August 31st 2017. Tokyo City, Shibuya hospital second floor There is an incredibly ominous feeling that accompanies knowing the exact place you are to die. I have been lying in the same spot for nearly a year now. Tubes snake their way under the blankets, latching onto me in humiliating place