On July 5th I bought my copy of the first edition of Strix; a new print magazine for poetry and prose. It is a lovely thing. Full of good poetry, as well as some short stories that I haven’t had chance to read yet.

The launch event in the evening, held at the ever lovely Hyde Park Book Club (LS6) was standing room only and a triumph; a lot of poets, plus one short story writer, that I’d never heard read before, as well as some familiar faces. All carrying the new things they had to say, or the new ways to say old things, with seemingly happy hearts. There was even time to consider the vexed question of “props in poetry” but Winston Plowes’ “bus bell” indicating the start of each new bus journey poem was a much coveted thing that night.

Ian, one of the two cavaliers behind this thing of beauty, tells me that Strix is a genus of owl, with the owl being one of the emblematic creatures of Leeds. Wikipedia, that infallible repository for all things that are known, notes that the Strix in mythology is “a bird that feeds on human flesh and blood, they have long golden beaks that they use to suck the blood of infants, their favorite victims. Their eyes are yellow and round, without pupils” which rather puts me in mind of Margaret Thatcher and therefore is not something to be encouraged, unlike the magazine.



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