We’re here, your lost children, listening for a sign – Six poems by Helen Wickes
CALLING FOR HELP It’s a shame you can’t outlaw language or license the users. Sometimes you can choke on ...
CALLING FOR HELP It’s a shame you can’t outlaw language or license the users. Sometimes you can choke on ...
The Dreaming Machine
Writing and visual arts from the world.
While watching a play at the theatre, our faces are a paradox. They are private and yet public. We ...
Translated from Bangla by Haroonuzzaman. Cover art: Rickshaw art from Bangladesh. Syed Rahman lay on a luxurious bed, tucked away ...
There stand the hills, drunk with the silence of your eyes.... You open your eyes to rhythm breathing in ...
Poem in time of war, 2006 1 She reaches in sleep for her brother’s hand Her small fingers ...
To José Craveirinha, Mozambican. Poet. The poet was looking at the walls of ...
While watching a play at the theatre, our faces are a paradox. They are private and yet public. We ...
Translated from Bangla by Haroonuzzaman. Cover art: Rickshaw art from Bangladesh. Syed Rahman lay on a luxurious bed, tucked away ...
There stand the hills, drunk with the silence of your eyes.... You open your eyes to rhythm breathing in ...
Poem in time of war, 2006 1 She reaches in sleep for her brother’s hand Her small fingers ...
To José Craveirinha, Mozambican. Poet. The poet was looking at the walls of ...
While watching a play at the theatre, our faces are a paradox. They are private and yet public. We ...
Translated from Bangla by Haroonuzzaman. Cover art: Rickshaw art from Bangladesh. Syed Rahman lay on a luxurious bed, tucked away ...
There stand the hills, drunk with the silence of your eyes.... You open your eyes to rhythm breathing in ...
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