Mapping Edge
Mapping Edge Finger touched mapped faded edge, unending ink black shaped lines, tracing hillsides I walked as a child. Black tufted strokes, old rough pastures, where curlews once…
poetry
Hommes sous Hommes
In 2005, I went to Palestine for three weeks with my parents, my wife and our daughter, aged two. We were invited to carry out workshops with young artists and…
From A Queer Ornithology
For those who delight more in the seed of things, I can say that these poems investigate queer, genderfluid indigeneity, and interspecies-relational philosophy through deep observation of wild birds.
Museum: Ursus americanus
On birches, bears, and the birth of farm animals: three new poems by Todd Davis.
A Place Older than People
New poetry of rocks and pigeons by Anne Haven McDonnell with accompanying work by artist Deborah Westmancoat.
Open call: Root Mapping
There is no map to the place we are going. We will be lost for a good, long time. — Eva Saulitis, Becoming Earth (2016) Between Vermont’s…
Open call: Rhythm
From the impact of clocks on notions of time, to the effects of computers, trains and planes on experiences of modern life, rhythm – in various forms and ways –…
A Line / Align
“A walk marks time with an accumulation of footsteps. It defines the form of the land. Walking the roads and paths is to trace a portrait of the country…” –…
Scrub
Beyond the chain-link fence of my primary school, across the alleyway into town, was a land of fascination. We called it the ‘waste ground’ and I’d wander there looking for…
MOTHERBABYHOME
Kimberly Campanello on her series of poems that memorialises those who died at St Mary’s Mother and Baby Home, Ireland. Part of Radical Landscapes.
Clouting
December It takes two years off their life, if they have lambs when they’re shearlings, if they’re going to live on the fells. Not much of the thin…