Jan FitzGerald

Jan FitzGerald

Daffodil Bulbs I could stare at these tubs of dirt all day,waiting for the miracle. This is where I buried them,swaddled in their papery skins now wintering in a secret hideawaylike swollen nodes of sleep. I envy their dark cocoons of privacy. One more change of...
Christopher Palmer

Christopher Palmer

The Sides of an Obelisk Three thousand five hundred are the yearsI’ve travelled, past all my known forebearspast several kings named Henry outbreaks of the plague there, and thereto be pinpointed along time’s gradientwhere creatures are shaped into language and...
Christine McNeill

Christine McNeill

A Flash I described the painted saints,carved animal heads on pewsin a medieval church.I’m going through hell, you said, and questioned whether loss of hearingwas worse than losing sight. You knew a womanblind and deaf who’d learned to speak:with balloons...
Michael Gittins

Michael Gittins

Two Worlds Season of Christmas cheer we adore thee,We adore thee and greet theeAnd men sleep outside in the streets.We greet thee with carols and cardsAnd prepare lavish fare,And men sleep outside in the openWith feet that are bare,With feet that are crippledAnd hands...
John Greening

John Greening

On the Morning of Christmas Day it’s mildacross our ungrazed fieldwhose thorns and clay have yet to know a freeze.The clouds in the east proclaimhow every wise man’s dreamof frost fair, snow and angel, is old news.Nature, abandoned at the Pole,feels something cracking...