The Mind
God’s voice
I’m still working out where I fit on the religious/spiritual spectrum. Do I have a relationship with one god or goddess, or hundreds, or none? Is god just a convenient placeholder for a word that doesn’t exist for the magic of the universe? Am I praying when I...
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Hawthorn for my lovers heart
**I wrote this piece over a year ago and while I still love the man I wrote about, it’s more because you never really stop loving anyone, and it doesn’t feel hungry or burning anymore. It’s the kind of love that’s in a back pocket of some jeans I...
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The Sounds of Silence
The moors pulse with it. A syrupy silence humming through the landscape. Pouring over nubs of lichen-covered rock, singing through the low-slung, flowering gorse, veering over the bended torsos of hawthorn trees. And then on, to mesh with the ghostly mist that rolls...
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Whimbrels
We’re in the water, you in your boxer shorts and me in my swimsuit. I don’t know if I’ve ever been happier than this. I want to tell you that I feel full to the gills with joy right now, like my fingertips are fizzing with it trying to burst out. I...
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Inside the head of…Nathaniel Kennon Perkins
Illustration by Fábio Vermelho Nate Perkins lives in Boulder, Colorado and is a writer, bookseller and publisher at Trident Press. He is the author of Cactus, the literary zine series Ultimate Gospel and most recently, a short story collection entitled The Way Cities...
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Sarah Crowder’s Lists; notes to people I’ve seen on public transport.
The working, and perhaps more appropriate, title for this was “Public Transport Creep”. (Overground from Crouch Hill to Barking) You were on the very delayed overground train from Gospel Oak to Barking, Sunday the 1st of September. I didn’t notice you...
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To All The Places We’ve Loved In.
The who without the where becomes unimaginable. Thompson’s Cut is where we became borderless. In October, the temperatures were high and hot so the leaves took a longer time than usual to turn on the mountains. This disappointed you because if I had come later, and...
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Inside the head of…Beans On Toast
Illustration by Fabio Vermelho Beans on Toast is a folk musician from Braintree, Essex. He’s a hippy, a punk, a poet, a drunk, a die-hard romantic and an eternal optimist, singing simple songs that tackle big issues in pretty much every place on this...
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Rust Never Sleeps
A short story inspired by the Neil young album of the same name. I always do a rapid rat-a-tat-tat when I knock on Adam’s door. “You’re just like a shaken-up bottle of Pepsi, aren’t you?”, that’s what Adam’s mum said to me one time. She was wearing an...
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Visions of Santa Cruz
Visions of Santa Cruz – Maria Virginia Reina What if your spell works? And I cough enough blood for a red mustang a holy backdrop of California mountains. You wish I was a prophet If I could I would die of prophecy but not before I found you, my promised...
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The Batmobile, Breakfast, and The Ocean
You can buy a book of Jacob Shelton’s very short stories here.
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Shakespearean Wet Fever Dream
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