In the three previous issues of Worms, we have plumbed the depths of the mind, unravelled the mysteries of the heart, and traversed the vast expanses of the soul. For this next instalment, Worms 12, we have sought to get back to our roots, to burrow our heads and tails into the soil from which we came. The central tenet of our fertilising mission has always been to champion the best and most experimental writing we can sink our teeth into, to challenge the exclusivity of traditional publishing, and to bring what’s lurking underground to the literary topsoil. We revel in writing that corrupts form, defies genre, and subverts style; work that deals in the uncomfortable, the uncertain, and the untoward. We ask: what can literary form reveal to us about ourselves, our heroes, the global landscape. We don’t need to remind you of the turmoil of our current moment. The frequency and escalating depravity of the bad news that reaches us through the black squares in our pockets says it all. Instead we return to writing to excavate its radical potential; writing as protest, as remedy, as subterfuge, as escape.  

While we cast our net far and wide, in putting this issue together a constellation of themes and ideas naturally emerged. From the complexities of history, legacy, and lineage, to the persistence of ghosts, grief, and memory; from the trappings of masculinity to the transformations of parenthood, pregnancy, and birth; from acts of community-building to queer kinship, messiness, and desire.