we have a story for you

from now on, every two weeks we will share one (or two) of the brilliant stories we’ve published with you here on substack. we’re delighted to build another platform for our contributors’ work - incredible wide-ranging stories from everywhere that need to be heard. we genuinely love these pieces and can’t wait for you to read them too! here is the first of the series, from mnemotope issue 006.

Plurabelle by Gavin Jennings

And all that road going to

the bottom of the sky with

a death of growth a desert and

all through the slow spending

of the day and as day follows night

we see the rings of Saturn

like those see-ha on the hill

this is the second summer of love

this is a circle journey where you

will meet yourself and meet that man on all

That road going until it’s upside down

And dig it before the second summer of love

ridiculously early to be literate

and up seeing the rings of Saturn

like the see-ha on the hill and now

Finn Wakes Again and shakes my

dull silver bough this money tree

shaking with the self-mythology

of this greying crying man a grey that may

shine silver shine with me on to all that

Road going and sure you can’t forget

That’s not something we do over here Onsaw

Onsaw Onsaw since didn’t Jim and Sam

Shine all about it and take me step by step

through how to open a door one foot after

the other these rhyming steps and rhyming

beats that drove Michael to gain a T and lose

his life yet there’s some youth to be found

far from some black pool out east so far so

we surge on west on all that road

Going to where fellas were shot up against

The wall only a stonesthrow from here

and when he told you there was a fire burning

you knew what he meant as you shone through

that second summer of love and you knew

each ring of Saturn you knew you had known

that Italian poet from the thirteenth century

Since in the poem of you

there’s nothing in you but

Your half-stories and all that road going

After my father, Seán Browne - Tar éis m’athair, Seán De Brún by Roisín Browne

Foclóir Póca – Pocket Dictionary

Gaeilge Béarla – Irish English

Foclóir m’athair – My father’s dictionary

Focal – Word

In with the papers, the scribbled notes, the work diaries, the reading books,

a dictionary, with a duck egg blue well worked cover, sleeps.

Sun faded sellotape clings to the fat spine, holding words and everything in place.

Inside he has taken his blue, black and red pens to make lines, circles, arrows, text.

Pink, green, orange and yellow markers rectangle and box important words.

Two ways of saying, two ways of meaning, caught between his fingers.

Each focal lifted up to the light, twirled in anticipation of discovery.

On some pages, parts of sentences or single words, are written in his own hand.

I trace the litany of print, ink and marked letters.

Page after page, I reel them in.

Eiseachas – Existentialism

Dúil – desire, fondness, expectation, hope

Folaíocht – lineage, descent, blood, breeding

Searc – love, beloved one

Gleoiteacht – loveliness

Macánta – gentle, honest

Dealramh – sheen, radiance, resemblance

Bogha báistí – rainbow

Ceolán – little bell, tinkle

And on and on for each of the five hundred and thirty-five pages he stars, ex’s, underlines,

practical words, life words, heart words, soul words.

Go deo,

go deo,

go deo*.

*Go deo - forever

see you next time!