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Showing posts from July, 2022
Welcome to Litter, a magazine of poetry, reviews, essays and artwork. It's been running since 2005 and is updated regularly. You'll find the Litter archive 2005-2019   here . Editor: Alan Baker    Published in the United Kingdom by Leafe Press. ISSN: 2755-1784

John Goodby - Three Poems

  John Goodby Waste I am sure I might not get over our future, whispering bluely in my middle head. Between one hair and sickening stability, shoe- footed though that is, the wrong floor's built right; but I am not would not.   Snoozing In that disused life, saints rave with boredom. The spheres nudge that moment asleep after a weird crystal decade shy of the righteous outcomes.   Traditional The last past insists, let's take the now; we whistle a morning to turn from fossil crossings over lovers' affairs. Poet, how strong have you sung an ocean?      poems@2022 Copyright © John Goodby, 2022

Mélisande Fitzsimons - Prose-poem

  M é lisande Fitzsimons The Butchers Standing in my Gitane-blue dress among pristine legions of Nathalie, Christine, and Isabelle, a sea of white at our First Communion, I hear Cush, the Angel of Relevance, whisper in my ear: “Do you sometimes feel that you are not who you see in the mirror?” It’s not Melissa   Millicent   Mellisandy   Messianisme   or   Melissandre (WTF). It's not Mailsand except in high Californian, Mailsand, like a beautiful fish in the mouth. It is an acute fever, accented, un s entre deux voyelles se pronounce z . Mamimi is what my mermaid sister called me, as I sat on my edge of the seat. Time has been fair, in that respect: I am here to tell the story. It’s a Spring name that erupts with branches, impatient, pushing, pulling and rhymes with sweetness and honey. It is not my last name, another complicated maid with long, blond hair that my father changed to Italian when he took over a restaurant. There is a simplicity there that I still miss. A d

Rus Khomutoff - Visual Poem

  Rus Khomutoff Copyright © Rus Khomutoff, 2022

Review - New collection from Sumana Roy

  Martin Stannard V.I.P. (Very Important Plant), Sumana Roy, Shearsman, 96pp, £10.95 It’s apparent that in her poems Sumana Roy has “something to say”. Fair play to her.   But I’m not convinced by the way she goes about the task or what it is she is trying to say. All the poems have plants in them, but they are not “about” plants, as such; I shall say more about this later. The majority of the poems begin with a statement, and very often you could be forgiven if you responded with a “Really?” Here are some examples:         Porn doesn’t demand merit. (“Tree Porn”)         An arc is a straight line that got bored. (“The Geometry of Trees”)         Material, not ambition, produces difference. (“Trees and Trance”)         The harvest of appearance is our first toy. (“Eating Light”) I don’t know what any of those lines are supposed to mean. Bits of poetry that leave you a bit puzzled are fine. At least, they are fine if they contribute usefully to a poem that one is able to interpre