BLUEPEPPER

mark we’re supposed to mark each other you know exactly how it goes, you know it’s one of those rules that govern Life, th...

Memoir Our stories are told through dust, and the sound of wheels traveling over coarse earth. Our stories are told through...

Implanted There was a break in the ocean a split  taking it down to the sand exposing rock and shell  coral hardening in t...

Homesick (Dissociation) Tulip tree in Alaska. Cold and wild. Rembrandt blue Christmas lights, shepherd pie a warmth of fami...

Screen of Death When people die they go to television and audition for their elevation. Some are extra, others ...

KRIA (young Alpaca)  For twenty minutes we watched him try to leave his mother.  He hung like a rag, head down, lo...

Along the Way Having fallen for various reasons, there was to be seen a parade of animal corpses by the side of the road along ...

Winter The skin of the river pools pink surging into the stony penumbra of the Rockville bridge, its archways mini-coron...

Lemons Our lemons were so prolific we dragged them around in sacks, I mean potato sacks, the stitched up ones with gaping w...

Treason First the wolves and jackals united to rule and control us. Then the vultures and rooks wanted a share in our tortur...

The city lights of Port Elizabeth or take my hand if you’re afraid (for Joop Bersee and in memory of Rainer Maria Rilke)     ...

Becoming Flame When heart is taken from you, torn, when a child is taken, land, home, innocence, naiveté, the way everything...

Bluepepper would like to welcome you all to the new year and announce that we are once again open for submissions. Just follow the su...

Inverloch – Cape Paterson Road, late August The car park at Eagle’s Nest is nearly empty and down the steep staircase, neatly ...

In Youth, There Comes a Strange Spirit Space, as after a sprint, intercedes. Before the start, during the mark on the blocks,...

Cousin Night. The wind frets. Squeezed close in your sitting room we discuss our cousin. We love him but is he that cuddly ...

The Gift The fine white ceramic face   of the Japanese teacup is wrinkled, as if it already lived a life before it came here...

The Blood Stones Some green stones had been left by the daffodils at your grave. Little green stones, not black, not hearts. ...

Holy Week A giant papier-mâché Diablo totters down the street, arms thrashing, head spitting out fireworks - the children ...

Quiet Decibels Next door’s radio mumbles to itself. A sudden bird flees another across the roof, a donkey on tip-toes brays ...