- Follow Eunoia Review on WordPress.com
Eunoia Review publishes on a twice-daily basis. We currently have work scheduled for publication until 22 August 2023.
Note: Our site is best viewed in Chrome.
If you like what you're reading, why not click the buttons to share it with your friends?
Surprise yourself! Click here to read a random post from our archives…
- Creative Non-fiction (230)
- Fiction (1,174)
- Poetry (7,343)
- Reprint (382)
- 1,382,653 views
Join 18,749 other subscribers
Follow Us on Twitter
- July, Georgia eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2023/03/22/jul… 11 hours ago
- Earthy, bitter, almost musky, with a bit of pepperiness eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2023/03/22/ear… 23 hours ago
- ghazal for red daughters eunoiareview.wordpress.com/2023/03/21/gha… 1 day ago
Find us on Facebook
Tag Archives: Daniel Bennett
A gift of New Year: this subtle invasion, the makings of peace. We watched the quiver of the yellow flames during their downward drift, jellyfish bobbing across the night’s ocean. We sipped brandy against midnight air, a boozy welcome to … Continue reading
Who knows what we wanted, from those hustlers and nobodies, sealed in their digital eternities as Second Zombie, Tattooed Bandit Bearded Killer, The Mighty Vood. ‘You could have had the world but instead I’ll have your eyes!’: there’s an epigraph … Continue reading
Remember how I brought those plants down from the city perched in the front seat of a hire car which you had to drive? The road cleaving ancient earthworks. Magnesium light crinkling on distant sea water. The car loaded up … Continue reading
The mania of days. Who said that and what route did we take? Soho is a tangle of crowds, its sides cube into corners, and the directions are obscured towards the midway point. He lived in the Fitzrovia flat, of … Continue reading
Small chores are a lesson in new responsibilities, a connection to the world. Weeding is her favourite: the blown seed blooms into poppy and dandelion in the paving edges, a gift from the bird table and autumn wind. They slumber … Continue reading
My Father Dreams of the Sea
Not for him the phantoms of high squall waters, where green swells spit hard pellets onto skin. And neither will he pine for shallow tropical pools so clear, you can see the seabed disclose its litter of shells. No. It … Continue reading