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24 Jan 2024: Rahan Nazeer. [Red-hot and tear-kissed]. Red-hot and tear-kissed under maskwith steel miles ahead in waitand then a new city.Now you are relegated to observer,My gallery ... leaden years as though a mouthful of smoke,To find new ways to no longer hold.

24 Jan 2024: And why not wriggle our toes in bits of old bran and chaffmixed up with sawdust from our new cut beams!

24 Jan 2024: Now far from home, I wonder if new children mightMonkey-like prance from branch to branch, preserving thoseOld childhood traditions of tree climbing delightFruit eating and the inevitably ripped clothes.

24 Jan 2024: silence for each wireless news:vainglorious hope they’ll trumpet forth your K.

24 Jan 2024: Shadowed-masses in the depths hum through the reeds,Winding past colonnades and the ruins of markets,Coiling round temple pillars and bronze effigies,Usurping the old shore with the new

24 Jan 2024: the wee hours ofwaiting on fronted news, the foreplay tense,the hot slit in a letter, the shriek.I have never treasured the fingerprintsonic resonances of a snore.

24 Jan 2024: Rahan Nazeer. Frighteningly Inert. Adrift on watersStagnant, charged, ion wet,. The pumice golemOn and off again,Averse to new versions,Soldering patches over kneed corduroys,Moulded by no volcanic handOther than

24 Jan 2024: all over the white hillside,snow white upon snow snow-white. This is the time of old shoes,when every step is new.

24 Jan 2024: Rachel Knowler. Reinforced. (not a concrete poem). After the chip from the front of your grin,we’ll make you a new one of china and tin.

24 Jan 2024: Now I cut new rivuletsto drain the chains of pools that lace the spreading sands and soft mudflats: time togather pace.