What will they think, what will they say our children, grandchildren, historians fifty, a hundred years from now, will they …
Plague Poem for Day Fifty-Seven by J.K.Durick
It’s a stock movie device – the creature, monster, serial killer… is laid out, down for the count, or only …
Falling (for Len). A poem by Susan Hitching
Your breathing has worsened our calls limited to minutes I say the same things in urgency you struggle through ill-fitting …
May Day zoom writing workshop. A poem by Martin Rieser
I sit in the bright kitchen, dishwasher churring, woolly clouds slowly passing, on a May morning. A wind is blowing …
Telepathy. A poem by David Eagar
Good day, a voice appeared to say. ‘Appeared’ as it was hesitant. Somewhat unsure if greet or comment, As these …