The Water Writer by Britta Benson

The ritual was painstaking. It never got any easier. First the freezing cold shower to make his skin tingle with shock, jerk the lethargy out of his bones, bump his soul into existence. Then, turn the dial to piping hot, leaving him red raw, aching, reduced to a whimper. Next, lower the temperature back to…

White Blank by Don Matthews

It stares out from the screen at me I stare right back at it Yes, it says, I am quite blank And, yes, I feel a git. I’ve got no spelling errors Syntax perfect, yes I’m just a piece of white blank verse Examine me, address! But I’ve got better things to do Than look…

I’ve Failed as a Poet Again by Don Matthews

I’m sitting in the cafe again It’s hopeless, don’t know what to write I’m doing my usual look-looking around But there’s no ideas coming in sight So what does a poet do lacking ideas? With me it’s to internalise To turn on myself, make the neurons go round See what they can bring me, surprise…