The world is a trying place right now, for all of us.
The question has come up more than once in our private editorial conversations, in our bedrooms and chatrooms: what is the point of magazines like this one in the time of Trump, of a growing fanaticism, and of Fosta-Sesta? Is the candle-pool of light and warmth we spill enough to justify the work small presses, editors and authors do in the dead of night, sleep absconded with for a glimpse of the muse’s hem?
Maybe it’s a form of resistance. Words hold power, after all, and these pages read like an incantation for a better, sweeter, world, a plane more tender and slippery than we perhaps occupy now, but one we believe we can build.
We hope you find a feast in our new poets and their sensory worlds: the gravity of Tony MacNutt’s Batholith, two utterly delightful Barry Charman works, the sticky pooling of M Amber Nall’s please my love., and Nicasio Andres Reed’s The things I would put in Oscar Isaac’s Mouth that quite honestly needs no introduction.
This issue also sees returning poets Espen Bosch, Nadia Kim, Neile Graham, Jessica Jo Horowitz and Melody Watson, eminent favourites of ours that we are delighted to publish more work from.
Maybe the reason we still do this is because it’s beautiful, or because it’s significant, or maybe just because it’s hot as hell, and we don’t need a better reason than that. Here to darken your door once more, it’s Twisted Moon’s third issue. We hope you love it as much as we do.
Hester J. Rook, P. Edda, Liz Duck-Chong & Selene Maris