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Jonathan Gibbs

Jonathan Gibbs was shortlisted for the White Review Short Story Prize 2013. He has since published a novel, Randall or the Painted Grape (Galley Beggar Press).



Articles Available Online


Jessie Greengrass’s ‘Sight’

Book Review

February 2018

Jonathan Gibbs

Book Review

February 2018

Jessie Greengrass’s debut story collection caught my eye with its delightfully extravagant title, An Account of the Decline of the Great Auk, According to...

feature

May 2016

Cinema on the Page

Jonathan Gibbs

feature

May 2016

Film is a bully. It wants to make its viewers feel, and it has the tools to do so....

#DROWNINGNOTDROWNING   to find me, plausible and aspiring in a relevant dress and full of promise oh internet, oh tumblr, at twenty your sunniest meme is a church i enter, mouth full of feigning: i will be well to find me so, industrious and suffering sweet bean or sesame, darkest soy, an oyster sauce i squeeze from me my pores are little sepulchres: my face is thick with foreign bodies my face is foreign bodies you don’t know except you do i do not know about anything, weary and sleek at three am what is it to be so heavy with lustre that you can’t even? in my vault of suspect valentines, a boy whose kiss is an absolute brat and it wants what it wants he said i had become intense he lead me not into temptation in the night, when the body is its realest zoo, couldn’t we all use a few of those flavourless mercies? and by mercy, a kind of white-people tea you drink it off hot and without sugar me, when the heart turns watertight me, at half the speed of me>> <<to find you, i won’t days of lulling wound, i know, when hands cannot comply youth is being in the world and the serpent under it: better to have not been born is the penitent subtext of all our comic fonts oh internet, oh, blog of blogs atypical silk of self cut, and a softer filter over us a squealing dream at night i’m unzipping a damsel i’m climbing in through her face to say yes and i thought if i could lay my shadow in a stranger’s lap, could stretch myself the length of my light reading, i would be sane i would drain the blank page like solemn milk i fail by theft, by thrift, by pills, by mania’s several devices to find you if anyone could if i could reach back through the rabbit for the hat paranoid, and nobody wants to fuck that thought nobody wants to deal what does it mean to go under? to become: sclerite, the spiny element in me kelps and corals, colonial forms, good sea-stalwarts all down through fleabane, limonium, and sweetest vulgare a red finger gropes for

Contributor

August 2014

Jonathan Gibbs

Contributor

August 2014

Jonathan Gibbs was shortlisted for the White Review Short Story Prize 2013. He has since published a novel, Randall or...

The Story I'm Thinking Of

fiction

April 2013

Jonathan Gibbs

fiction

April 2013

There were seven of us sat around the table. Seven grown adults, sat around the table. It was late. We had eaten, and we had...

READ NEXT

poetry

January 2016

Meteorite

Liliana Colanzi

TR. Frances Riddle

poetry

January 2016

The meteorite retraced its orbit in the solar system for fifteen million years until a passing comet pushed it...

poetry

September 2012

Moscow - Petrozavodsk

Maxim Osipov

Anne Marie Jackson

poetry

September 2012

  Mark well, O Job, hold thy peace, and I will speak. Job 33:31     To deliver man...

fiction

July 2015

Agata's Machine

Camilla Grudova

fiction

July 2015

Agata and I were both eleven years old when she first introduced me to her machine. We were in...

 

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