I sit. Ponder. Is this it? On my own good self no concern. On Her, Them the bleeding willies. This …
Routine. A poem by O.T. Park
Hard to appreciate the mundane Until routine is forced to cease. The rupture shows its value; a frame on which …
sea mine viral/a CV in19. A poem by James Walton
bitter jelly babies push around tongue their sealy loll in wetness turn over catch a snib this chain supports oily …
Isolation Normal. A poem by Jim Ward
Funny how they ’ve learnt to isolate at last and join the club. To stay the two metres away, to …
Mutants. A poem by George Potter
I thought Coronavirus caused a failure of the lung (Or so the experts told us, though in bats begun) But …