by Tom Saer ‘Can you give me a cautious “yes”?’floats up to me from the past, one of my first auditions. Time is a flat circle for me for five small portal minutes.Out of my pint glass body, staring at the stage, the wormhole made when I think about what things look like from the […]
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by Tom Saer You have bad taste in encouragement She tells me how to eat The swan dipping in the water narwhal face She tells me what to eat The feathers on the ground She tells me not to eat The chaotic glee of the universe The tone that rhymes with all your curvature
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by Tom Saer The world is but a simulated blurAll the way through to the core, To the metals inside. Is religion an explosion of gratitude? So happy I could cry. ‘Therefore, since we aren’t clever people, we should adopt the method of investigation that we’d use if, lacking keen eyesight, we were told to […]
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by Tom Saer My back in plasters, heading back. I find some swans three years ago, they start to turn around my ears. I saw the other world in water trees, the ripple spreads, its secondary eyes are open. Close and open irises to me, reflection past the open tree. Someone must have taken out […]
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by Tom Saer You, kissing in the daylight Toothless puzzle pieces Telling every dog of the world to heal Come and see, songs and voices in the bowl which I found once my eyes were closed, come and see the rest of everything along with me. Hand me over to the times when you smile, […]
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by Tom Saer I found some orange peel, carrot peel, on the pavement, left for Chester Burnett… Peeling off the snow from a branch I leave it to fall over me. My hands, a change, a pretty Sun in them, press on the snowman’s belly, he collapsed before I got there; he was rigid, the […]
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by Tom Saer The doyen of the television cables crouches, one knee resting on the dashboard: He exclaims this is The first and last attempt to dull the children’s mouths! They’ve taught themselves diplomacy with brightly coloured picture-books.
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by Tom Saer Part one: ears With shower water making radiators on my skin, a slightly tired feeling coming in To walk instead of take the bus On time, I had explained to me electrodes and consent, for TMS that is. To see your face and brush the hair away from it […]
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by Tom Saers Make me spinning visible to Make my pain complete? And I will not allow this to repeat Said someone part of me And I will not allow this to repeat Said generation me, my parent What I wouldn’t advertise To find a smile with space enough for twenty paper […]
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by Tom Saer Push your eyes until the logic’s gone and then, in millions and millions of yards and scars of smiles in eyes The destination singing to the cracks in mattresses is on your right I know I’m making deeper crevices when walking while there’s everything but softness round my ears: things […]
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by Tom Saer Forgetting this is what my time together knows, considering [I hit the bottom and] the way that darkness has been put to use since goodness knows BC. But now the bonfire substitute illuminates the shame with preset ambiguity: Are there any ways to warn my friends About the Fallout […]
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by Tom Saer Categorical return to my island the contract sees still breathing sworn on cherry blisters but now, don’t worry, I have a stronger hardback body of 8-year-old mermaid me Matchless bathing mansion waiting to show its flat excited chest a dream much closer to both of our folds At the biggest surprise of […]
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by Tom Saer
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by Tom Saer She said I should process my feelings before destroying other eyes To the point that they laugh I tried to say I wasn’t less-than-one-week-old love leftovers But maybe that wasn’t so convincing There are tears in my ear still Soft salt in the morning at least They came I think from Orphean […]
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by Tom Saer Breathing binary air loss In a separate dream about top surgery I guess rhetoric wins in the end Maybe the water’s taking a bank holiday And your side is pierced With one collective neck and my hands around it Or maybe that was the other guy Rhythmic tarmac accompanied by the band’s […]
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by Tom Saer Do I forgive you for your animals in a fury of cigarette pavements? Neptune’s lieutenant rarely if ever evident acted out of nothing but a carbon paroxysm Give me a pen pot prophecy about some lighter worry something along the lines of the lines of the the sugar made me forget what […]
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by Tom Saer Any grip I had as a child On the warrior’s earpiece Amassed a certain sympathy with Freudian audio and the plaintive Cry of a caterpillar The other cups Made out of moral tortoise shells Say nothing about the grief of the immortals Or the baby dragon in her eye Or the formula […]
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by Tom Saer Please, my deer, sell your tiger’s hides and Harvest my empathy I promise it’s worth it? In an anxious Greek murmur of the brazen-clad I found your stone antlers Weeping words from a cherry tree In a fucking dance I will grind you into a paste I’ve met you before synthesised waltz […]
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by Tom Saer I have apparitions of a pillowcase Stuffed with lion feathers I have fifty pence from grandpa To buy slow motion food On the vibrating bus seat by the bus stop I have pins and needles in my face Dripping with autotune I have a citadel of hair and glasses Made from […]
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A selection of some of 2017’s most popular articles on our website. Featured image by Max Clements – see more snowy pictures of Oxford here. Fantastic Trumps – and Where to Find Them: On Fantasy Tropes & Political Narrative Alex Waygood ‘Dwindling’ Tom Saer The Saturday Ritual Michael Leong What’s New About Fake […]
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by Tom Saer Resurface from your lampshade Watching in dislocation Threshold of earth Plastic tears of a shaman Welded onto my accomplice Decoration on our perspex Hope transported The sand in your smile My dusty Neptune Evolve Cough up your skin like a man and Show them you’re made of blood Out of the whirlwind […]
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by Tom Saer We saw her near The empty drain She’d lost her pieces In the rain Her ankles wept In morning’s earth She went to sleep In beetles’ birth The flies are here Their tethers sink They filled their cups She did not blink To celebrate We found a wreath Its whispers made A […]
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by Tom Saer the spider tells me with the bulb in his hand I am weaker the dust tells me with her tired eyes I am older the jackal tells me with his little finger I am thinner the little knife tells me with her little blade I am worse I tell you mother […]
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The Poor Print 