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
Acceptance
All the roads mistaken brought me here.
late winter the promise of overcast skies
Bob Lucky
John Smith
John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, the son of John Smith, cast a shadow like his fathers, but left it by a drying lake.
no use
discussing sleeplessness
with an acorn
Johannes S. H. Bjerg/editor
TOB is open for submissions
Christ has risen! Happy Easter to all readers. The Other Bunny is now open for submissions again.
Riverside Bench
A place to meditate, take stock. A place to gauge how an elusive dream can reach new levels of intensity.
quicksilvered by sun
How long to live in order to attain the full extent of that innate creative flow.
span of an egret’s flight
Within the context of the universe ‘s life, one small planet’s aquamarine hue, viewed from afar, just ripples with the splendid insignificant.
a space of water
Diana Webb
the other bunny 