Review by Nigel Featherstone What is it that we are to make of poetry, especially in an era when even well-written and relevant fiction is being ignored for reality cooking …
Bag Bog Cat, the Caterpillar an’ the Glue Man (Andrew Galan)
Horse serrations vibrate floorboards ta’ squeal a rockin’ billycock woe · · an’ we was diggin’ ditches an’ shovelin’ mud an’ burnin’ faeces when the Caterpillar said sorry, sorry was for …
The Upstairs Food Court (Andrew Galan)
Rubber tyre rolls bain-marie aisles grips heavy toddler centrifugally snug three kids run beside reaching pushing scream delight across fluorescent tiles tread bounces down metal staircase arm waves round’n’round …
Duck Part 2 (Andrew Galan)
Two six-fingered blue arms loop around black, black, black boiling ink. It should not gawk; but with toes pigeoned around night’s dark dirt, the storm-cloud to salmon tulip is an …
Where is the Werewolf? (Andrew Galan)
What is going to be different this winter? When vests are still in fashion and I forget my hat but remember my tie that was how many years …
The Mother Poem (Andrew Galan)
[In preparation you will need a photocopy or printout of this poem, a book or pieces of cardboard big enough to hold this poem, glue, and a wooden spoon. Paste …