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Index: Poetry & Fiction

from ‘The Runiad’ book 10

< from Book 9 A Fortnightly Serial. By ANTHONY HOWELL. ◊ ANTHONY HOWELL writes: My own romantic notion of myself has encouraged me to attempt an epic. It will have 24 books and be the same length as the Odyssey. Each book will be approximately 24 pages long, with three seven-line verses per page. I have […]

from ‘The Runiad’ book 9

< from Book 8    from Book 10 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ANTHONY HOWELL. ◊ ANTHONY HOWELL writes: My own romantic notion of myself has encouraged me to attempt an epic. It will have 24 books and be the same length as the Odyssey. Each book will be approximately 24 pages long, with three seven-line […]

from White Ivory, chapters 29 & 30

< chapters 27 & 28 A Fortnightly Serial.By ALAN WALL. • Chapter Twenty-Nine. The Blues in Paris HARLIE TOOK his thesis with him. He would give it to Jennifer with all the corrections when they returned. He was still uneasy writing a thesis about the blues, even though it was effectively finished. He always remembered […]

from White Ivory, chapters 27 & 28

 < chapters 25 & 26    chapters 29 & 30 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ALAN WALL. • Chapter Twenty-Seven. Black Dog O THE FATHER of Malcom and Jessica Filey was arrested. Suspicion was lifted from Will’s shoulders. The Inspector had been in no doubt that it wasn’t him anyway. As he told his Sergeant: […]

from White Ivory, chapters 25 & 26

< chapters 23 & 24   chapters 27 & 28 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ALAN WALL. • Chapter Twenty-Five. The Dolphin’s Back IS FATHER was in bed sedated, and Charlie was sitting nursing a coffee in his grandfather’s bathroom. The old man seemed to have gone into some sort of trance. Charlie peered through the […]

from White Ivory, chapters 23 & 24

< chapters 21 & 22   chapters 25 & 26 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ALAN WALL. • Chapter Twenty-Three. Thesis RUE IVORY for the purist comes only from the tusk of the elephant. It’s a modification of dentine which in its transverse sections or fractures exhibits striae which proceed though the arc of a circle. […]

The Anamnesiologist.

By JAMES PEAKE. ◊ after Susanna Clarke 1. omeone who recovers what’s been lost, has committed to the steady and dubious art of unforgetting, ways of being, blind spots we didn’t know to compensate for, weight no one thought to infer, things without a name in our language. Someone whose own lives are many, and […]

Five sonnets in honour of Sir Walter Raleigh.

Executed on the Scaffold, Westminster, 29 October, 1618. By Richard Berengarten. ◊ He dresses in the Tower T five, the priest. The prisoner, confessed, Cheers up a little, even seeming merry, Taking his usual care in how he’s dressed, Stylish as ever, fashionable (very)— Doublet, hair-hued; taffeta breeches, black; Waistcoat, embroidered, black; kid gloves, in […]

Three prose poems.

By Mélisande Fitzsimons. ◊ Alone in her Prison Cell, Aliénor d’Aquitaine Reflects on the Randomness of Language and History ngland, England, land of sputum and spit, I love it. I have always loved your spirit, even when your buttery tongue licked me into near losing the deep fur, felt sounds of my own. Against the […]

Two cautionary tales.

By SIMON COLLINGS. ♦ The Fish Eye t the bottom of his plate of fish soup Gunther found an eye looking at him. He was horrified. In the local folklore, discovering a fish eye in one’s soup was a worrying omen, and Gunther believed strongly in local lore. He scooped the eye onto his spoon […]

from White Ivory, chapters 21 & 22

< chapters 19 & 20   chapters 23 & 24 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ALAN WALL. • Chapter Twenty-One. Old Friends HARLIE HAD BEEN working hard on his thesis when the call came.  ‘Come on Charlie. Two slots on a CD, it’s all set up. You can do Whiskey Straight and Sitting On Top Of […]

Two eclogues.

By JOHN WILKINSON. ◊ ECLOGUE: EACH TO EACH The flattened world is incapable of folding its creatures; they enter no burrows, nests cannot raise a rookery aloft amidst spheres of mistletoe, new carrot-top curls subside, creep along the earth they intrigue and disguise, matted and too shallow. What can break the bed, transparency of air […]

Last poems.

 By Béatrice Douvre. Translated by John Taylor. ◊  arewell to inset words, to glorious words. Here, a place drunk with blossoming, the enameled field of living. The green water is a face effaced by confines. Farewell to inset words, to glorious words; the voices change, the sad steeples shift while floating. Snow in the brown […]

What Is Poetry?

Death keeps — an indifferent host — this house of call, whose sign-board wears no boast save Beds for All. —Sylvia Townsend Warren, ‘East London Cemetery’ And will any say when my bell of quittance is heard in the gloom, And a crossing breeze cuts a pause in its outrollings, Till they rise again, as […]

from ‘The Runiad’ book 7

< from Books 5 & 6               from Book 8 > A Fortnightly Serial. By ANTHONY HOWELL. ◊ ANTHONY HOWELL writes: My own romantic notion of myself has encouraged me to attempt an epic. It will have 24 books and be the same length as the Odyssey. Each book will […]