As another Spring begins, the bird’s
brain cells bloom. New songs.Fingerprints return after the hand is burnt.
Who knows what we’re capable of?I part the vertical ocean of clothes
and find you there. Spider,it is almost terrifying to me – suspended
only by the work of your own body.Too often, I surface with handfuls of air,
thinking the connecting threads were within.
37.0: NO THEME!
Poetry Editor: Alan WearneReleased: 1 February 2012
Index of poems
Cover image: Maxine Clarke
Well, the people have spoken: after a decade of themed issues, we've turned the tables on ourselves and opted for an issue with no theme whatsoever. It's awn!






“Spider,
it is almost terrifying to me – suspended
only by the work of your own body.”
Beautiful imagery.
ditto!
(with echoes of emma jones’ ‘waking’)
I received a mighty wallop from this, Andy.
Multiple readings inevitable.