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urgent biophilia

Poetrywrist-deep in dirt for something less particular satisfaction more tasty than butter lettuce wilting kale curling towards sun cabbage grubs chew chew chewing cabbage butterflies pupating try a decoy moth mobile the...

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For my ex (an unforgiving poem)

Poetry Trust me when I wished you an eventful summer by which I meant processing yourself like a tardy Microsoft update You will have my blessing. Trust me about...

Getting attached

IntroductionMore than fifty years after Larkin lamented the emotional inadequacy of generations past, we’ve equipped ourselves with an extensive vocabulary with which to characterise, analyse and diagnose our relationships with ourselves, with others, and with the places, objects and ideas that shape our sense of who we are and who we wish to become. Yet still we face the same old set of conundrums: from parasocial connections and fractious family politics to the solace we seek in non-human entities, our myriad attachments continue to offer us comfort and complication in equal measure.

Lincoln Wimbley writes a story at 37,000 feet

FictionThen last week, in that bar. Lincoln never a big bar guy. But Professor Tim suggested, ‘Get out in the world!’ Somewhere all new. So, a bar. The bartender asked, ‘A beer?’ Lincoln hated cans. Hated bottles. Hated beer. But asked for something on draft. On tap. Explained why he was there, a first-timer, hunting for a story. Bartender laughed. Said elsewhere’s probably best. ‘None of the sad sacks here come with a happy ending.’