writing

Living Symphonies

Between Liverpool Street and Chingford, the heatwave had cooked the train carriage and all who rode in her to fetid ripeness. On the other side of the parting doors, the…

Editorial: 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 –…

Rebecca Partington

A Place That Mattered

The place where my son died had horses. Only because when a dying boy asks you for a horse, you find more than one. You make your way away from…

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…

Yves Berger, Palestine map

Hommes sous Hommes, I

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.

Rick Bass, Maxim Peter Griffin

Border Dreams

I never dream about maps. I used to draw them for a living. I have dreams about every other passion. It occurs to me that to dream about maps might…

The Lightning Way

I would often sit with my grandfather outside on the porch, watching the cloudbursts roll in from the horizon. They would come in thick, dark inky blue clouds heavy with…