me decreasing through the mirror’s corridor
darling cloud
i have once again failed
to be your portal
Richa Sharma
Half Penny Dreadful
The topmost arc of the double rimmed postmark intersects the corner of the fern green stamp just catching the chin of the profiled Edward V11
‘Julia is far from well … Effie is better I am glad to say and please excuse the pc ‘
space
for the word
reverse side of dark
From an 85 percent plain chocolate tint the foreground shadowed water brightens beneath a rustic bridge connecting banks of trees more trees which reach from the murk towards the cloud tinged sky
full moon
through a century’s eclipses
deciphered ghosts
Diana Webb
Nulled
At the end of the string I am holding there is a cloud. I walk a puddle on a lead. Above my head dark balloons gather. Soon it will rain cats and dogs.
thunderhead—
clay dolls
in children’s tombs
Alan Peat & Réka Nyitrai
Suspense as a Way of Life
The moment I slipped out of the womb I was slapped around until I cried. If I hadn’t cried, I would’ve been slapped around some more.
quiet night
the creak
on the stairs
Bob Lucky
(N.T)
I break open a thought the sky has compressed since long. It is the one from the manuscript of your dream.
beyond looking
a butterfly jigsaws
into my identity
Richa Sharma
Lobster telephone
I found out much later that I was the last to know. She said she’d only take items that were of emotional significance. A couple of weeks later she came for the emotionally significant sofa. Two men I’d never met before carried it out to the waiting milk float. With some difficulty they manoeuvred it on. And, from the kitchen window I watched as it silently progressed down the lane.
wilting moustache
the heat from a
blazing giraffe
Alan Peat
Love
The purr at the back door announces the delivery of another mouse.
cold sunrise
the saucer of milk
empty again
Bob Lucky
A Measure
As an asteroid savages the earth an iceberg savages a ship so out of time which incidentally no longer exists my music excavates last dinosaur last passenger to die I tinker with the notes to harmonise the two therefore I am…
ice cubes
in his tequila sunrise
an upturned hourglass
Diana Webb
danse macabre
beyond the limits of your imagination (or mine), without any blink of an eye, an unoriginated wind is winnowing its harvest.
you (the reader) will have been reading this long before I (the writer) am conceiving any image to embody its crafting
as stick figures
a fine rain trickles along
the woodcut’s grooves
Hansha Teki
Lustrate
The eaves-drip dead are tightly-packed, close by the walls of the old parish church. Once, grieving mothers kept a close eye on the heavens; prayed to God for thickening cloud; for rain that might fall on the chantry roof; sanctified rain that would pour from the mouths of chimeras and baptise their newly born dead.
fallen branches
dead man’s fingers *
grasp the light
*Xylaria polymorpha, commonly known as dead man’s fingers, is a type of fungus. It often grows on decaying wood.
Alan Peat
the other bunny 
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