By Lynn White They emerged from the cute blue eggs of our Blue Araucanas. With every one a cockerel when grown, we decided to have one for dinner. Under the grey blue plumage, the skin was blue, which was quite a shock, a little alien, but cooked it was fine, normal, as expected and the […]Read More
By Matthew Harrison A Dim Sum lunch, a special feast, A dozen dishes at the least! I grab the pen and order sheet: Let’s make a start with Cold Smoked Meat! And then I order Phoenix Claws (That’s chickens’ feet) to great applause, With Juk, Har-gau, Siu-mai, and more Delicious Man-tau buns for four – […]Read More
She’s been waiting
Long past her expiration.
She sits on the doorstep of success
And waits for it to let her in.
If I were a writer, would I be more scared of success then failure?
Would I be more afraid of fame then anonymity?
Would I be too paralyzed to start for fear of an inability to finish?
If I were a writer, would the pressure to write weigh so heavily that I couldn’t write at all?
Southern Daughters I am from the south where the trees are dry and the rivers are waterless. Our sky is dark and its sun is foggy. I am from that south where everything is colorless. Our southern fields have daughters but our streets are always blind. These southern daughters are smiling but their eyes are […]Read More
Emily Dickinson once famously remarked that if she felt as though the top of her head were taken off, she knew she was reading poetry. And who among us did not read “It is a truth universally acknowledged, …” and feel our heads explode? But the poetic nature of Austen’s first lines has not been explored — […]Read More
By Ian Randall Wilson EMOTIONAL INTELLIGENCE Flags are waving with the violence of veterans who hold them out. Around the square people trying to remember. The grass has been replanted. 12 times in the last 2 years. Still it won’t grow. The body sickens and recovers fattens and reaches for its portions of space. […]Read More
By Matthew Harrison ON TAKING OFF AT HEATHROW If I see England from a cabin port – Lanes deep in shadow, hedgerows frosted gold By winter sun – then come images fraught With sadness: brothers dispersed, mother old, Friends long gone. Yet this boy beside me cries And laughs and prods his neighbour gleefully, For […]Read More
And the Hell of it is I like to sin,
not sin for the sake of sinning but sin
because I just can’t seem to stop myself
Addiction is a live thing.
It breathes through you,
survives through you
like a parasite.