Poems
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Fridge
By David Stavangerfloats down river
worries about mud lice
and loss of power
stops in no parking zones -
French's Darlinghurst 1985
By Brian Purcell“Moving up Oxford St towards Taylor Square, and crossing Crown St, we come to Betty’s Soup Kitchen at number 84, a building that housed French’s Tavern, a wine bar that gave so many bands a paying gig early on. Midnight Oil, Cold Chisel and The Reels were there early in their careers…”
from Rock ‘N’ Roll Walk Of Fame ‘N’ Shame, City of Sydney
Of cou… -
Govetts Leap
By Anna WestbrookIt is in the soft thuds the susurrus
the rounded edges of event
where you can hear the knitted
space the pause -
The Same Bay, Twice
By Tim SinclairTraffic hum from the Anzac Bridge, and you watch
the city coalesce from dawn. Buildings emerge
to support their glowing logos, the squatting chunk
of fish market turns blue. -
St. Kilda
By Ali AlizadehGhosts bristle from the grimy
grout of cobbles and tiles. Foot
-paths, the Ouija board. Feet
pulled by forces to trace, decrypt -
Nymphs
By C. M. Chadwickfrozen in row
but then crackle skin
peel of giggles
and slip off slip slop slip shod -
Beneath the South Head Old Road, 1835
By Nandi ChinnaIn this city water is a sacred word
held in the mouth like a wet stone.
My jug is never full, but always
leaching with polluted longing. -
Thinning our little herd
By Benjamin DoddsFor weeks
we had Baskerville
hounds in our heads
sweeping bold arcs -
Lunch Hour
By Eileen ChongLunch hour. The machine halts its drilling
into concrete. The workman folds his body
onto his haunches like an accordion and takes off
his gloves. There: feeling returns to fingers -
Monologue of the Moustached Girl
By Joel Ephraims“These books appear to be constructed horizontally. They remind me of the cast aside welkins of those ones who transcended early. The windows on the toes do well when moonlit and will fit the new bodies splendid.
Inside one of your own deadlines a naked scaffold breathes. Position yourself neatly against it like a mulcher reflected in a bearded vas… -
Health Department FactSheet No.67(a)
By Tim SinclairPoems are bloodsucking parasites. There are many
species in Australia, including several that target humans.
Poems have four distinct stages of development:
bothersome thought; lost napkin jotting; failed first draft; -
Nightpoems 13/7/2010
By Peter BoyleTonight there is no one else in the house. Birdless treeless night, I slip dead alarm clocks
into my pockets before going to bed. When the walls collapse I walk out onto a pier that
has been built into the river below in the valley.
A young boy from a century ago stands there waiting for someone to turn up with a crate of beer. I wal… -
Don't Worry Be Happy
By R.A. BriggsThe sun. A yellow bottle cap. The sun.
Ranunculus and dandelion. Wattle.
A burger bun. A hat. A sunburnt face.
A lightbulb. A computer screen. A jeep. -
ghosting the ghetto
By Omar Sakrfor Steven
In their third floor brick flat, the one tucked into the asphalt folds of Warwick Farm,
past El Toro motel, down where the winding road straightens out opposite takeaway
tucker, my grandparents were rebuilding Lebanon, and no one seemed to mind. Every -
Routes off the Putty Road
By Berndt Sellheim1.
Early morning pale skin
you wake without
coming to -
The View from the sold house
By John StokesA high, voice teetering
View this poem on The Disappearing »
A black and -
At Eucla
By Cathy AltmannShe approaches the telegraph station at Eucla.
The honeycomb colour of its blocks
rising from the whiteness of the sand.
Her feet make soft indentations in the dune -
Go to be lost to others, overwhelmed/ By bones and light and themselves…*
By Juan Garrido-SalgadoThere are lights that will never burn out
Until they make bodies and dust
In our hearts and hands.
Hay luces que no se apagaran jamás -
Leaves
By Lorin ElizabethShe keeps kites tied to both wrists,
a puppet to the kneeling winds
that remind her you can fly and be grounded
so don’t tell me I’m too old for this -
Flood Watch
By Mark RobertsUp the hill,
safe on a concrete path.
But the rain continues &
I almost lose my footing
