Poetry | On the Way Back by Alfredo Vanín Romero (trans....

Alfredo Vanín Romero (trans. Robin Myers)On the Way Back We traced the path in our bodies. It seemed to lead nowhere, but the hope endures...

Poetry | Untitled Poetry by Samuel Vásquez (trans. Christina MacSweeney)

Samuel Vásquez (trans. Christina MacSweeney)Untitled Poetry My coherence isn’t well received. Coherence is a chosen not obligatory inheritance. They expect me to split. Employ social...

Poetry | Silence by Yirama Castaño Güiza (trans. Christina MacSweeney)

Yirama Castaño Güiza (trans. Christina MacSweeney)Silence ‘Each photograph leaves a trail of silence’ Trika, Brazilian documentary photographer The rain has filtered through the cracks, like droplets of...

Poetry | The Rolling Head by Rómulo Bustos Aguirre (trans. Christina...

Rómulo Bustos Aguirre (trans. Christina MacSweeney)The Rolling Head   to all the people in my country who have been disappeared  One man executed another man cleanly and extra-judicially...

Review | Everlove by Maggie Butt

Carol DeVaughnA review of Everlove by Maggie Butt This heartfelt and moving collection opens with a sequence inspired by the American  artist, Mary Behrens, in...

Poetry | Hyperlove by Naomi Morris

Naomi MorrisHyperlove The two pieces below are reproduced with permission from the closing stages of Hyperlove by Naomi Morris (Makina Books, September 2021). Hyperlove burns...

Poetry | I leave myself in the bull-filled room by Alice...

Alice MerryI leave myself in the bull-filled room  i. ...The bull fills the room.......................................................................throws ...its horns.............wide...................................................................handfuls of barnacle.................tapering............into slick ivory points.................medieval    ...chessmen  spearing..................................................................the paintwork .........................................................................................................the bull ...is slick dense...

Poetry | Joan Brossa | Six Poems (El saltamartí)

Joan BrossaEl saltamartí / The Tumbler Joan Brossa creates distilled excitement. He is both wise and wild. His poems are surreal and matter-of-fact, playful and...

Poetry | The Proof by Rosamund Taylor

The following piece was published in our February/March 2021 issue of the magazine. Rosamund TaylorThe ProofTasting her still, I'd walk home in smog, frost, past burnt-out...

Poetry | Girl, Hotel Mirror by Laurie Bolger

Laurie BolgerGirl, Hotel Mirror  In a hotel mirror, a woman is snogging her own face. News reporters gather, shout things like: what about other peoples faces? Without looking away she...

Poetry | You are my Winter by Claire Wong

The following piece is published as part of our TLM Young Writers series, a dedicated section of The London Magazine's website which showcases the...

Poetry | The Older Touches by Bibhu Padhi

There are times when I remember / all of them fondly enough for them / to be here once more, all around / this house, which is far away from / where they were around, and at this hour, / far away again from my childhood fears. / Now I can just think of them. And / what is thinking except the mind’s / imaginings, the heart speaking to itself / in the darkness of default, fearing alien / ears, the world’s participation in the shame / of being touched in front of others? [...]

Poetry | Almost-Heartwood by Suzannah V. Evans

The rosy almost-heartwood of larch, / which sounds like lark, which sounds like singing, / which sounds like the wood could open its rosy throat / and pour forth the song of boats / sighing in the harbour, / swimming onto slipways, knocking against pontoons / The grainy planks of teak, / which sounds like talk, which sounds like the boatbuilders / as they ease about the wooded space, handling compass planes, / talking of cleats and chines and carvels, making tea [...]

Poetry | The Scientist by Andrew Wynn Owen

Andrew Wynn OwenThe Scientist Before the time of skiing on Europa,               Enceladus still a far-flung starry dream, When humankind had...

Poetry | Letter to Bez by Chris McCabe

Bez, post-Victorian Boz, Viz incarnate / and Viceroy of the sinew, what is the name / for light that detracts from the stars? / Urban pollutants de-lux distant galaxies / as we walk after / parties through school fields, / via car parks, past vacant vats & waste lots [...]

Interview | Robert Lundquist: Never say sorry or common words again

My Father was a boxer. He taught me how to box when I was nine. This commonality, and the need to impress him, informed a great deal. When Charles Bukowski at an event asked me to ‘take it outside’ over a girl, I said okay. I was 21 and shy. Everyone at the party kept telling him [...]

Spotlight V: Journals Edition | LE GUN / Hotel

The London Magazine has long been a champion of emerging writers and independent publishers, stretching back to the 1950s and 60s, when young writers...

Spotlight IV: Penned in the Margins

The London Magazine has long been a champion of emerging writers and independent publishers, stretching back to the 1950s and 60s, when young writers...

Extract | The Leaflets by Ferdous Sadat

The following poem is taken from the anthology Tales of Two Londons: Stories from a Fractured City, ed. Claire Armitstead, Arcadia Books, London, 2019.Ferdous...

Poetry | Trapeze by Layla Benitez-James

Layla Benitez-JamesTrapeze A rabbit might be taken away from a butcher by two different people and prepared separately; I mean, the structural integrity of my...

Poetry | Coot by Iain Twiddy

Iain TwiddyCoot It didn’t need to be a big ripple nudging its reed-nest for the overstep to plop into the up-plump of the breast,and the coot to...

Review | WITCH by Rebecca Tamás

Briony WillisWITCH WITCH, by Rebecca Tamás, Penned in the Margins, pp. 119, £9.99. (paperback) In her latest collection, WITCH, Rebecca Tamás explores the triumphs and oppression, the...

Review | The Neighbourhood by Hannah Lowe

Hannah Lowe’s fourth chapbook, The Neighbourhood, begins with a winding dotted line that travels from the first to the second page. The image continues...

Poetry | Joan Howson’s Cottage by Michael Henry

Michael HenryJoan Howson's Cottage This is Black Rock Sands that ............my parents walked to from their honeymoon hideaway. Those are the footprints they left ............on the sand. That is the...

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