August - 2021

Selcouth Station

Aug 30, 2021

Poetry: "Stella Cadente" by JP Seabright

Laced in the heavens, the constellation Lyra, Falling Eagle shines visible to our naked eyes, its eponym Orpheus - musician, poet, prophet. Placed over Earth in midnight summers of northern hemisphere - centuries from now, it will shine once more as our guiding North Star. Faced with my future wife for the first time at the birthplace of the poet Sappho - her words written for the lyre sung with love for womenkind. Traced across the sky, the Perseid meteor shower, our hopes l

Aug 28, 2021

Poetry: "in the middle of july" by Connie Baccus

mule deer are walking where I water stopping for a moment under sun- dried trees forgotten slurping grasses turned to dust golden goatheads hard, thriving arrive from lakes, late in long shadows attempt to disappear in curtains of red wind has pulled them back demanding, los animales are becoming tame in ways you cannot imagine, bald eagle young loitering under trees too hot to roost in, flying across a 2 lane chased by smaller birds, small birds who multiply on sprinkler wat

Aug 26, 2021

Poetry: "Clock reclined in wild rhythm pose" by Joshua Martin

textbook of violence insufficient gallery of distortions roaming eras metaphors sprung to expansive manifestations curious civilizations dripping limitations rough draft translation/ fumigating battle ready gear throat constricted verbal consideration a mispronunciation creased glances steam avenues musing grim / gross / self-exposed ignominious televised speeches sinking sunken rocking fingernail evaporates sucked out through the back of the neck indiscretions of ideology/ s

Aug 24, 2021

Poetry: "High Alert" & "Is it rude to stare?" by Niko Teixeira

High Alert after barely escaping the draft, after Nancy Walker stood up for TMS Some are called to service. Those in service are aspiring to be more. I’m unable to identify place meant for my subconscious. I discover it only when dreaming. I’m occasion- ally called out, away from my count- try for bounty. I can’t believe what chanced there (once?). I’ll never for- get how hard I had to try to forget. I was completely exposed, taking o- orders, running around and around. All m

Aug 22, 2021

Poetry: "parry with alacrity, protect soft places" by Ceinwen Haydon

fit sheath over blade charge with one hand stretch wide in sweeping motions slight downward tilt forceful rhythm maintain balance do not overload or overreach see chart in fig.1 to depress release remove screw from warm body before reconnecting trigger output with care performance can be maintained and to facilitate cooling hold back from power surges satisfactory operation depends on proper tool care remember lubrication oil is available Found poem from leaflet for Black and

Aug 20, 2021

Fiction: "Stormy Weather" by Nicola Ashbrook

I’m sitting on the fence at the bottom of the garden, absentmindedly munching an apple I twisted from the tree on the way down. “Always twist, never pull,” Ma said yesterday, “that way you know you’re getting a ripe one. If it doesn’t twist, it isn’t ready.” Ma lived in the country when she was a kid so she knows these things, but it’s all new for me. We used to live near Manchester before – in a flat up three flights of stairs. There was a lift but it didn’t usually work and

Aug 18, 2021

Poetry: "Bone Ladder" by Nina Parmenter

If I was belly-based, I could spend my days sculling in lush pools of gut fauna, warm and safe beneath my own flesh roof. But I chose for my space the cranium, famed for its panoramic views, its proximity to tongue and tears, its sweet private access via the top flight of the spine. Each day, a billion stimuli send me scuttering up the rungs of my neck, hot as a bugged weasel, squashing seven skewed vertebrae in my rush. And when there is danger - a meeting, a journey, a deci

Aug 16, 2021

Poetry: "O Weary Sailor" & "I Don't Blame You" by Dale Booton

O Weary Sailor For Austin at night I hear the rested waves awaken stretch their arches across one another open their throats and roar o weary sailor out there amongst the phantasmagoric fog against the brush of the moon’s backhand do you think of me o weary sailor do you think of us of our names whispered along the sea breeze of our feverish need carried out by the crash of the tides reaches o weary sailor can you hear those waves their mighty call to us lapping their wet ton

Aug 14, 2021

Poetry: "Do you like that podcast I sent you?" by Georgia Louise Luckhurst

Do you like that podcast i sent you Do you like that podcast i sent you the one about the fear of turning thirty that made me feel better about turning 23? the one which asks whether dolly parton hugged a country to her rock- abilly chest and unified america? Do you like that podcast i sent you on whimsy and whether it’s a credible school of thought or a foldaway camping stove, in the fight against oppression? have you heard the episode about how murder is as funny as everyth

Aug 12, 2021

Poetry: "Cycle" by Sascha Engel

Sascha Engel is the founder and editor of Strukturriss, an Ireland-based journal focusing on anarchic dissolutions of text. After teaching in U.S. higher education for a while, he now writes semi-human word structures which have been published in the Centre for Experimental Ontology, Streetcake, Beir Bua, and Tattie Zine, among others. Twitter: @ThinkContinuum