LATEST FROM THE CLEARING

The painter’s chair / Attending by Fiona Sampson

like a new
thought or like
the curlew’s
call that                                                                       
doublejoints
across the Sound

Dent by Myna Trustram

lichen spatters hawthorn branches like paint on a studio floor.

Mama, en route by Coco Lone Neal

When I was eleven years old, for four days my father and I walked and camped, naming the places we passed.

Under Scythe-like Wings by Ian Grosz

…in its ageless song we felt Orkney’s long-absent presences.

SUBSCRIPTIONS