I can’t help thinking: Is this my birthright?
a seabird’s call that drifts above the ocean like the bridal stars upon a sea of glass.
I’m thinking of you, by Mark Mordue
for Noah Goh The morning you are born, I am in the future and spy a flower among the glossy leaves of the magnolia. It is creamy, perfect, not yet unfurled but poised to break and blossom with the turning of the hours. In the past your mother lies, strapped in a blue gown, waiting. We all hold our breath, connected by pixels and satellites—poor substitutes for flesh, scent and human presence. Rain here in Sydney veils the city. A caul of wet drapes the buildings that fist at and puncture the sky. To my right […]
Nearing sunset, the young echidna
performs an unusual act: it climbs
The kettle would go on, the phone would ring too loudly,
echoing over the still surface of the black river.
Houbara by Michelle Cahill
New poetry from Jakob Ziguras
I could smell the snow line but I just kept talking talking and climbing with this glimmering young man who was talking to me about death how a good dose of death if you truly drink it is a gift a gift a fresh cold slap a fresh dark creek you’ll never sleepwalk through your life again again I wonder now as I wondered then in the seeping ambrosia of pine trees if I was climbing effortlessly climbing if I was talking effortlessly talking with a god a god who never touched me or told me his name a god […]
Even crocheted jocks
Easter poetry from Virgil Suarez
Minjerriba was a giant in the sun
His green back coated with cyprus and gum.