12 October


by Elaine Feinstein

This is the landscape of the Cambrian age:

       shale, blue quartz, planes of slate streaked with

iron and lead; soapstone, spars of calcite;

       in these pools, fish are the colour of sand,

velvet crabs like weeds, prawns transparent as water.


This shore was here before man. Every tide

       the sea returns, and floats the bladderwrack.

The flower animals swell and close over creatures

       rolled-in, nerveless, sea-food, fixed and forgotten.


My two thin boys balance on Elvan stone

       bent-backed, intent, crouched with their string and pins,

their wet feet white, lips salt, and skin wind-brown,

       watching with curiosity and compassion:

further out, Time and Chance are waiting to happen.

11 October

I con while I can

by Anthony Edkins

When I was a boy


(sometimes with a k)


stiff hieratic figures

depicting Pantokrator

                                   or Christ

of interest only

to the Orthodox

and dead Byzantium.



          as I grew older

the word


in conjunction with charisma)

began to slip

                     was used

to finger


and their violent deaths:

Bobby and JFK

Martin Luther King

Marilyn Monroe

John Lennon


and Princess Di...



          (like myself)

                               the word’s

scraping the barrel:

                               Icon is

promiscuously applied

to any filmstar

                         pop star

                                         top model

or sportsperson

with seven-figure earnings

and a highly mobile




10 October

Though flying is falling

by Carrie Etter

Why am I tempted to leap when the tall rocks point toward me like arrowheads? My body sags in the humid heat, it begs to fly into the river. As I perceive the level of gravity increasing, so my desire to defy it increases. Outstretch my arms. What is the consequence of wings? The rocks, the rocks jut out of the water. I want to fly, though flying is falling. The cool wash of the river. I stand on the bank, raising and lowering my arms.
8 October

4 texte

by Reinhard Döhl