(after Elizabeth Alexander’s ‘Butter’) One of my favourite smells is melting ghee wafting from the kitchen in strong gusts. Growing up, we have come undone in the company of fresh ghee, regaling ta…
—for April Fools’ Day, 2025 I. Today’s the day to fox and fool. Today’s the day to flick some fuel On laughter with a cuckoo joke, A wicked lark, a wacko poke So sick Old Nick will think it cool. T…
The sky is moon, pushes and pulls the sea within. Eclipsed by something like desire, she slips into her red identity, a basket tucked beneath. She weave-walks, parts the brambled path towards the f…
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…
JumblePublishing
Richard J. Greene
