Dear readers and authors, dear friends of newleaf,
Unfortunately, for financial and editorial reasons, newleaf has now ceased publication. The editors, all working voluntarily, have been snowed under with other commitments, both professional and personal, and are now scattered between London, Bremen and Konstanz, so we are pressing the magazine’s Pause button indefinitely. We will keep the magazine’s name on hold, in the hope that some day it can be re-launched.
We are proud of what we’ve achieved over the last nearly twenty years. From a modest stapled brochure in publishing students’ poems from the Bremen workshops, we grew over 28 issues to an international magazine in which well-known writers were pleased to appear (in spite of the fact that we were unable to pay them!) and in which beginners were able to find a springboard for their literary careers.
In the meantime, we regret that will not be accepting submissions of poems and stories.
Our thanks go out to everyone who has contributed to the work of the magazine since 1994: from readers to newleaf groupies; authors from Western Canada to New Zealand via Ireland, Bremen, Nigeria and Singapore; venues from Café Ambiente to the Lagerhaus; from proof-readers to events managers; from sales managers and office managers to chair-stacking activists; from video makers to lunch-time sellers; from press-release writers to web administrator; from the Stadtbibliothek Bremen to the Scottish Poetry Library; from the Bremer Literaturkontor to the Virtuelles Literaturhaus Bremen; from Radio Bremen to the Weser Kurier; from the university printers to the wonderful colleagues from English-Speaking Cultures who supported us in so many ways over the years. No names, no pack-drill; you know who you are.
By leaves we live!
Julia Boll, Oliver Chrystossek, Simon Makhali and Ian Watson
Last issue: newleaf 28 – By leaves we live
love is a spider's web,
sticky and full of dangers
for little insects like us.
we creep and crawl and hum
until we get caught up in the trap,
and then we are eaten
by a hungry spider
who does not know
we are indigestible.
Fulya Antakli – love is... (from newleaf 1)