Poems
-
weight
By Ben Walterplease settle me down in
the depths of the river,
scattered ash lodged
in the silt. let metal -
64, Headquarters, cornerist, accountant, and entrepreneur.
By Astrid LorangeCB: There are three goats and a dozen chooks in the back
corridor. Please don’t be alarmed if you cross them in the copper.
Your job this week, as resident translator and scholar of maps, is to
address the members of the houses in Greek, Swedish, German, and -
The Report
By Richard James AllenYou sit down to write a report entitled,
“How is it possible for one person to kill another?”
An hour later you wander off into the streets,
leaving a blank page pocked with dark nothings. -
Blackout
By Toby FitchAt some point, the power went out.
You thought you’d left your appliance
on, or the gin was wearing off. Still,
when you felt your way down the -
Birthplace
By Richard James Allensomeone in your family once read my novel
or maybe studied it at school
I found an old copy
an early Penguin edition -
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; -
Kumbilor – hill in my Country
By Jeanine LeaneI come back and see a hill
barren and cleared of trees. Sectioned by fences
like a checkerboard of games won and lost.
Only the rocks anchored so deep they cannot -
On the Catwalk
By Frances Rouse(for Mary White and David Suzuki)
Welcome ladies and gentlemen
to our parade whose theme this year is:
Erosion as a Manufacturing Process. -
Job
By Bonny CassidyA deep curve reeks
of roiled fear
and you still
breathing, leading -
The Valley
By Zoe DzunkoNow that we have mapped the Ocean it is just so much more
difficult for the boats to disappear. Even so, our phones died
in tandem that first night, we smashed the bottle neck open
against the sun spoiled steel of the barge. And the wine poured -
Reappearing
By Tim SinclairDisappearing in this traffic down the highway of my ignorance.
Marrickville the limit of my inner westy roads. Five years in
this city, and yet, and yet. 40k school zones and disappearing
time. Stay calm, stay focussed, and stay on the highway. There -
A town from land John Oxley said would never be inhabited by civilised men
By Lorne JohnsonWe were returning from
long days in thinning mallee
where we persued red-lored whistlers,
grey falcons and malleefowl, -
project eden
By Meredi Ortegadisplacement, only the is
isthmus collar barking fence
rufous bellied blue like it dropped from
the heart -
Lucky Charm
By Virginia JealousThere's water in Lake George.
Been ten years, the locals say.
You're lucky, they say.
That wide, still lake -
Charlotte Street
By John HawkeThe pavement is a narrow procession
of footsteps returning home in darkness.
There is a raw gas-smell past Island Street,
the rancidness of lamb-fat that clings -
I take up a long, lone branch, bone white
By Anne M. CarsonWarrumbungles Creek, NSW
I lie balanced on the beam of a flood-felled tree,
a bridge from bank to bank. Like a hand at my waist,
a branch keeps me from falling. Water tumbles over -
The Sapphire Coast
By Graham KershawCasualties of migration stain the rose-powder beaches:
corpses of Mutton Birds exhausted at sea, relicts of pilgrimage
washed ashore to litter this last refuge for depleted souls
with the bloated bladders of salted, sun-fried skins, -
Rouse Hill
By SOLOTime travelling on the motorways
we watch the landscape change
as cramped steel and concrete
give way to open space -
Along Terrigal Beach
By Brian PurcellNeeding more cash to get the fish
I walk via the beach
dark cloud, fat drops of rain
seagulls and some hooded terns -
Fridge
By David Stavangerfloats down river
worries about mud lice
and loss of power
stops in no parking zones
![Loading...](/static/images/loading.231962813b8e.gif)