The air is crisp and cold wind whips my face. The cool rock face beneath my feet is slippery and covered with moss, leaving behind squelchy mud and lush green trees with intertwining roots; natural and fierce. We’ve left our …
The rain and sun make everything sweat and quiver; the plants, tar roads and women’s bare thighs, that are fat and glistening with perspiration. The rainforest grows dense and casts dark shadows on cinder block homes. Trees and vines copulate …
22nd July, 2002. Dear J, How’s everything? I hope that my sudden disappearance didn’t cause you too much trouble. I know you can handle the company by yourself, though you’ve got to work double hard. Who knows, you may be …
Broken Hill stretches out beneath me as I survey the city from its enormous man-made lookout. It strikes me as a town forgotten, a satellite city thrown to the edge of memory by civilisation.This is how itexists— lyingalone between coastlines, …
It was one of the most important things they did together: with each other and for each other. They would buy a bottle of wine—just a little bit more expensive than they should be buying—and watch the asterisms over Fitzroy. …
Our bricks and mortar sit on rammed earth like dirt sits on our skin. What seems so solid, so dependable is nothing more than a visitation on the earth. A layer to one day be washed away by choice, storm …
the reef’s every nimble colour mirrored by an oil slick* __________ * So the speaker ends on “slick,” an elusive word that, writhing like a sea snake through vaulted coral outcrops, animates the final line while wedging a stopper in …
Let’s make this quick, cause it’s Saturday and I wanna parttyyyy. The KARMA ANIMAL Award is our second performance poetry award, a short list of five poets, all who took up the challenge in their own unique style. Here;s the …
And so the Karmic Wheel it turned, Freeing birds from wont to learn, For soon as mistakes could be made, The memories of them would fade. And so the wheel it turned, And left us all unscathed, The Rabbit, Monkey …
The Cat from Alexia Dickson on Vimeo. Cats don’t go on dates There’s simply no need Why would they date When they can lick themselves? I go on dates With a plethora of men I go because I’m lonely …
So you’re sitting on the floor and you’re detailing and more how you see yourself and see the way things are And through the gestures of your fingers I can see the sadness lingers As you falter that you’ve only …
When you fly across a desert Injured, crashing, stumbling over hot sand until Ahead, the air shimmers above a patch of green, you think I’ve seen mirages before; it’s hard to feel hopeful. But little choice prompts you toward them. …
He changes lanes so often, the white road line crosses back and forth between us until we’re 10 year old siblings dividing a room with string, insisting we stay on our own sides, this ticker tape of a white line …
For the ROSALIE GOES BOPPING award we asked you to write about the theme of music and character. It was great to see some fresh faces and new voices on the short list. She had enough. Thump. Thump. Thump. Three …
Dear Short Listers, I suppose in one way or another you have all won my heart. But seeing as their can be only one winner, in another, far more accurate way, that winner would be: Rowan Chestnut! Congratulations …
The familiar mourning melody of the infernal violin seared through her mind like a sharp knife slicing mercilessly through her aching heart. Nothing irritated her more than the screeching of string instruments. It was unfortunate for her to have been …
8 Charlie collapsed into the armchair next to his father. ‘Would ya?’ Charles Senior held out a glass, smoothed ice-cubes jangling within. Charlie took the glass from his father’s hand, walked to the cabinet, filled it and handed it …
Her painted melody Written by Candace Davis Clara Poulain really was, quite possibly, the most enchanting pianist on earth. A flowery, petite and curious young woman, she was as humble as she was pleasant. If anything could drive Clara …
Four-Legged Ballet – Madeline Pettet “Trot at C, canter at A.” The absolute tedium of dressage tests always puts me off ever competing again. It’s supposed to be horse ballet but it feels so rigid and stale. I know …
Eric sits in his bedroom alone. There is music playing. That song. That song. A drop in the ocean. A change in the weather. Eric’s eyes burn with the promise of tears that he hasn’t had time to allow. He …