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An excerpt from they by Helle Helle

‘On the third of April her mother says: “I must have swallowed a stone.” They go for a walk by the playing fields, the anemones are out. Some small boys are playing football, shrieks and shouts, one of them’s crying up against the goalpost. Her mother’s in her winter coat. They’re having beefburgers, hence the walk. She’s wearing an Icelandic sweater herself, it’s still too early yet, the wind cuts through the wool.’

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Lyn Jacobs: a note on For the Seasons by Beverley Farmer

‘When assisting Beverley’s son Taki to gather material for the website he was creating to commemorate his mother’s legacy, I discovered that he was unaware of the haiku manuscript. It was no longer on computers and after a frantic search I located my copy in an old box of research papers and postcards from Beverley’s travels around the world, secured only by a rusty paper clip.’ 

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A poem from Two Hundred Million Musketeers by Ender Başkan

‘we dont make the pilgrimage anymore / but i offer pick-ups and drop-offs all the time / its good to see a friendly face on the other end / back then the aura of travellers / some gold dust that rubbed off onto you / probably more for me / id never been to turkey but i was turkish / our backyard was under a flightpath / look up and imagine / my cousin forgot how to speak english after six months there’

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Two excerpts: The Land I Came Through Last by Robert Gray

‘The secret about reading, I used to say, at such times, was to know when to refrain. I would be told I had never mastered it; but that was probably because poetry, which I read slowly and only a little at a time, but almost every day, carried along on the rhythm, was not counted as difficult reading by me.’

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Eunice Andrada: a note on KONTRA

‘This project engages the canon I grew up with – the kontrabida as she exists in Filipino media and her cultural equivalents across the world: women punished for wanting. It is also a reflection on what it means to work with and within language as a Filipina writer. A contribution, perhaps, to an ongoing lineage in the Filipina poetics of refusal.’

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