Poem of the day

Day Trippers

by Steph Pike

25 June


by Eleanor Rees

24 June

My Eyes

by Maya Chowdhry

22 June

A paradox of small presses

by Paul Peter Piech

21 June


by Penelope Shuttle

I came to the small peach of a month, 

to the bushel of days,


to a cairn of minutes 

where time was buried


I came to the September of a second

where trees stood so close together


they looked like the last night of all


I came to the latchkey of the moon, 

to the source of rue


No one saw me perched on the wrist of the world, 

no one saw me flying to such heights


or knew how long till I came back again, 

like crimson returning to god


20 June

'The poet's function'

by Paul Peter Piech