Poetry

 

Citronella

Citronella

Ella Ferris
I’ve got nowhere to be and it’s muggy this year as if the house itself and the trees are panting open mouthed and hot breathed reptilian clouds look to be sunning themselves up there on the granite sky down below ...
Smoke and Mirrors

Smoke and Mirrors

Stephen Edgar
That worst of summers, When the whole eastern seaboard was ablaze And the air was blind with smoke, Thick as a sifted fall of powdered pumice, Yet our brief holiday’s First evening a clear window. Then we woke To find ...
First Winter

First Winter

Sharon Du
There were two winters in total. I let nothing touch me then, except the wind, and the deer. The deer in Nara were not soft. Their fur was burlap, or school carpet. If I rubbed harder, they’d take my skin ...
Two Thousand and One Nights

Two Thousand and One Nights

Peter Rose, Peter Rose
Surely it must abate soon. Catullus can’t go on writing those rubbishy poems forever. How they creak like arthritis. Surely they must dry up eventually. Year after year he pops up in journals that tolerate his fetishes, his creepy anniversaries ...
Green Soul Working

Green Soul Working

Carl Walsh
magpie sucks air from green soul the river wends paths convolute into each distance speak not of cul-de-sacs the bag-ends of nowhere scythe-edged moon sheds shimmer daylight has quelled across salt pans wind breathes through city lights on edge of ...
Barks of Great Artists

Barks of Great Artists

Michael Farrell
In Brazil, so I read, the Doberman pinscher is celebrated, and aestheticised, through the use of bandages. Twins—in reality, survivors of larger litters—often bark together. When on a stage they’re probably looking for someone. A poetry of the self Requires ...
Here Tonight:

Here Tonight:

Chris Andrews
As far as I can see through surf-mist this house is the last to be swallowed by the shadow of the mined-out scarp. Colours flattened all day by the sun deepen, open, come into their own: olive of a humming ...
Sunflowers

Sunflowers

Edith Speers
the long road home could be the road that brought you here from over the sea and far away by bus and plane and train and boat while sunflowers hung their heavy heads fat with seeds packed close and tight ...
The Old Tin Shacks

The Old Tin Shacks

Kerry Bulloojeeno Archibald Moran
When dar raindrops on the tin shack the sound is so smoothin the remembrance of old time livin came with improvin the rainwater that the old fella has dance in that dawn dance, dance ’til the raindrops pour’d pour’d down ...
Journal in August

Journal in August

Petra White
Berlin 2021 1 In the Spielplatz, children running in circles their gentle pregnant mothers lunging after them, life after life. Now they depart the darkening park, walk down streets and upstairs, lighting window after window. And the three of us ...
Messaging

Messaging

π.o.
A spider caught 17 flies. (Gave 8 away). 18 blackbirds, landed on the clothes line. All spiders, have got 12 eyes. There are 41 cakes in the cake shop. A bloke came by, and bought 8. There are 38 mice ...
The Flock

The Flock

Eliza Dune Daiza, Eliza Dune Daiza
In the face of ravenous days, I say, be the long lush calm across a winter’s lake. Abandon the ritual of wanton preening. Consider the thicket of yellow-bellied feathers, waxed and parted upon a marshmallow chest, that puffs so easily ...
Over and Over

Over and Over

David Ishaya Osu
sleep over the milk, she said a line twice—two sides of the same sky, she said a black line and a yellow line continue as one, she said the night can stop in a curve or in a mirror, she ...
The Taste of Insects

The Taste of Insects

Rob McKinnon
Christmas lights flickered on the roof eaves even though it was only September. Two flat oval-shaped footballs lay unwanted in the gutter out front. The grass in the front yard was long and shabby except for a bare worn path ...
Study on Artefacts

Study on Artefacts

Alison J. Barton
we survived a surrogate register words invented us language first imagined then gilded in pain everything \ an act of resistance a pioneer state not our life \ rust-red rain on corrugated iron like teeth in the sun Alison J ...