He washes up upon the shore, that blue man, waxen in the printer’s trowel of harbour light. A wedding pumps on the waterfront, a limo driver smokes and blows his rings at bats, and he who looks so …
The Armenian Language Is the Home of the Armenian by Moushegh Ishkhan
The Armenian language is the home and haven where the wanderer can own roof and wall and nourishment. He can enter to find love and pride, locking the hyena and the storm outside. For centuries its…
Mother had a blouse. It was mauve with puff-sleeves. Roped shoulders with pads under. The collar Peter Pan. The style of the forties. They stitched Devil’s Ivies on the breasts like purple hearts. …
For the first time in monthsit was mild this morningwhen I stepped outside.At least it seemed that wayafter relentless frozen nights and frigid days,the ground in a shroud of snow,the sky a mournfu…
I learned a man who’d persecuted me Is dead. The crime, once old and stowed away, Returned so fresh, it’s all that I can see: His grinning face and bullet eyes, all day. He was my boss, of course; …
The Big Freeze of 1963 turned London into an open-air museum. Foxes, caught in a taxidermist’s pose, frozen in suspended animation. Geese locked in cloud vaults. Blackbirds glued to lawns. Trees ha…
At Kilmore town ancient carols are sung, legend says the sea will drown their town. Casting stones into the sea is wrong, storm-crested waves drag silent sail down. Legend says the sea will drown t…
I know when you’ve had enough. Sprawled across my lap, I heave you to your feet and lay you on my chest to sleep it off. One unfocused eye stretches open, stares in my direction, before your …
Mixing colours is a form of alchemy This evening the green corridor of trees lies back incurious as a single magpie brings me sorrows unspecified. The future is hedging its bets in the twilight. fo…
JumblePublishing
Richard J. Greene
