brickstack blockstack

Samboo's Grave at Sunderland Point Let us not arrive on our deathbeds knowing that we should have done more, that we should hav...

What a thicket what a mix-up all my thatches caught in one attempt at love all now as we see stretched forever into the dead sands of w...

Go unconscious and replicate fatherhood is all those bad memories but that's too simple it is instead, revived a series of emails ab...

perhaps the strangest lachrymosity accompanied by elephants with blue crackling about them one marvels but can hardly feel in the field...

With some discomfort travailing down the mechanism of framing not failing to notice in passing how the bilberry fronds (vb) at the wayside...

In some areas like breath or sex or design once achieved like the Estwing hammer the wheel or the loaf, originality has little virtue now...

America: it's like watching a brain-damaged child punching its own face again and again .

in and now out the same door like all knives whirling our utter politics in collisions of limestone pavements across all this she travailed ...

all up the road me and my boys overarched by great snows sastrugi, I mean I mean like watch out a huge sculpture might fall on you as...

Now there is snow again. A few days ago, when it was dark and snowy, the deer came down -- five of them -- and hid in that little trench whi...

then what for those, those damaged, for whom love was never enough?

there were flowers. they were small but colourful and they reminded even the sheep of death. we stopped for moments to admire them. there w...

Well who doesn't like getting new books through the door? Mmm, it always excites me a bit, and then I don't read them anyway as I ge...

Emily must have sat here looking at things perhaps the same things which now bite my legs and then roar up the non-road, the track thin...

I wish you lived next door. If you didn't like me I would leave you alone. Perhaps very occasionally I would take your bin around, but...

some weather systems I almost then a small bird perhaps lost perhaps they have spare ones but I even through the glass bang bang ban...

all poetry ends in collapse when the gimmicks are over we only do this for so long this equating, this anger, this conflation which is...

Latest TCR is out, guest-edited by Lynn Otto, who is one of our fellow 'advisory editors.' Well done to Lynn for an excellent job.  ...

I know I have to lose you for you to become what you will be but just for this moment stop by the wayside and look, while we still h...

so this donkey with a really short face walks into a bar and the barman says hey why the long... your next word is really really fuck...

when the fish in the barrel win the day US war movie .

just remember you didn't have Snopes all of your life .

La Rage —sing, goddess, of the RAGE of Achilles the Pope now has an HIV-infected Gay lover —this has led to a considerable softening of his ...

I interviewed artist/sculptor Duncan Moon a while back for The Triggerfish Critical Review. He has since finished the work around which much...

who could say in the dust and ash and poverty of the million tiny moments and decisions which cumulatively brought him to this wet and so...

There are three potentially magical or supernatural episodes in 'Wuthering Heights,' in which mirrors or windows – possibly e...

sans armes, ni haine, ni violence —Albert Spaggiari .

He had the finest ear, perhaps, of any English poet; he was also undoubtedly the stupidest; there was little about melancholia he didn’t kno...

after a few weeks of this new start though she could see he was trying she could also see that it wasn't working oh she love...

...nearer to the sun and air—wind in the willows i am the son and the heir—the smiths yeah, man, the elements—anon I want to be in the ...

to join the Mile High Club you really have to give a flying fuck .

Sister Sue, tell me baby, what are we gonna do? —Mink Deville time has gone wrong here for no reason it keeps swinging me back ................

bats like rips in twilight owls for now stolid as off-white statues beaming in the boughs over the already black embankment above heari...

when you were tiny I carried you on my back into the wind and snow to explore the moors and you didn't complain much even when the ...

At some early stage in its metonymising arc, the understanding of the Latin word for 'city,' urbs , merged with its juxtapositional...