In this Issue - Poetry


          ... Andrew de Mello, who years ago 
was notorious for sometimes dressing as a Sioux chieftain 
and who is now in red vest and matching jeans, 
his rockers’ haircut seventies-style. Face lit by 
his laptop screen, he’s crooning obscure ballads 
to a poppy backing-track, being timeless, Portuguese, 
and at home. 




are you here? 

can you talk about the curvature of the plants that grow 

from the cracks in the pavement you walk upon, 

furtively, eagerly, like the local children 

who unravel sealed leaves containing first memories – 

or have they fallen from attention, only existing on the periphery? 


I hide. 
Behind the unloved cluttered bookshelves, 
camouflaged in a dark salwar kameez, 
I elude prying eyes, 
until my time can come again. 



When the colour of imagination fills it 
the picture changes 
into the rough and rugged travels 
of a nameless traveller 

Perhaps I was wandering, 
connecting countries, 
on some silk road