BROWSE Columns
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Liver-breached words: ‘it’s just my truth what can you say to that?
What manner of hummingbird are you that you can't sit still?
I’ll have my life in small plates discussed and shared or I dunno
messy and discarded? A group of hummingbirds is a bouquet,
funny coz they used to think hummingbirds couldn’t smell.’ Bile
ducts blocked, his skin has jaundiced quickly; knowing enough of
what’s to come, the guests let him talk, ignoring that he looks like
a highlighter to accept his version of celebration before –
Ewen Glass (he/him) is a screenwriter and poet from Northern Ireland who lives with two dogs, a tortoise and lots of self-doubt; his poetry has appeared or is forthcoming in Okay Donkey, HAD, Poetry Scotland, Roi Fainéant and elsewhere.
