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Issue #22: Future Life

Welcome to The Wild Word

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Spotlight

Maria Behan on #metoo, sexual predation, and why the bitch is back

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Roar

Lorna O’Hara on opening up about sexual harassment and moving towards a feminist future

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Soapbox

Mike Hembury on Blade Runner, gender equality and why men need to step up

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COLUMNS

Editorial

Editorial

Our editor Kusi Okamura on mothers and sons and a future of equality

Brood

Brood

Robert Taylor on the future of young men of color in America

Spotlight

Spotlight

Maria Behan on #metoo, sexual predation, and why the bitch is back

Soapbox

Soapbox

Mike Hembury on Blade Runner, gender equality and why men need to step up

Letters From Berlin

Letters From Berlin

Annie Mark-Westfall on role models, career goals and finding work-life balance

Roar

Roar

Lorna O’Hara on opening up about sexual harassment and moving towards a feminist future

Gaze

Gaze

Irena Ioannou on the ways in which parents can undermine their children’s future

Other Father

Other Father

James Prenatt on moving past disappointment towards a better future

FICTION

James Burr

James Burr

James Burr’s short story ‘Nanny Knows Best’

Man Overboard

Man Overboard

The next installment in our comic serial in which our hero Leif takes part in a political debate

POETRY

Lynn White

Lynn White

Lynn White’s poems ‘Void’ and ‘In This Space’

Tim Philippart

Tim Philippart

Tim Philippart’s poems ‘Time Not Taken’ and ‘Still Life’

After the Singularity

After the Singularity

Our Artist-in-Residence Devon Balwit’s poems ‘After the Singularity’, ‘Hard Choices’ and ‘Ex Machina’ with images by Kerfe Roig

The Last of the Last (of Us)

We are the last, making our way through the loveliest
of decay, gutted busses draped with vines, Jesus light

streaming through shattered windows, giraffes poking
anachronistic heads through gaping frames to gnaw

shoots rooted in wallboard then willowing away, an ethereal
caravan through wreckage. Ahead of us our task awaits,

but for now, we read old letters, lose ourselves in photographs,
throw back our heads to read signs from a time when signs

meant something, all the while attentive to the clicking,
weapons at the ready. I would like to stay here with the

giraffes, to climb their musky flanks and straddle them,
a new type of nomad, high above the desolation. Forget

the cure, let the infected rot, their spores disperse. Let us
found a new Eden, engender a new people, scavenge what

we can, create what we can. Let us, you and I, leave the
plot, the plotting, to others, cutting our losses, all ties

to what was. It won’t be long before entropy has its way;
the skyscrapers will be as baobabs, nest, roost, living dolmens.

LATEST NEWS

FROM THE ARCHIVE

Our BEHIND DOMESTIC LINES columnist Jami Ingledue on Good Day PA talking about the mental workload of mothers.

DEAR READER

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