Poems
-
Low tide
By Miranda Gillam GrantWarm room,
low tide
I left the earth and the humid air
I left myself within myself -
-
How Water Works
By Tony Birchcup a hand
skin and bone
this water well
a beating heart -
There is Nothing Heavier Than a River
By Georgina ReidIt’s the water that pins
us down.
Our flighty atoms,
our fizzy ideas, -
How to stay afloat
By Kelly-Lee HickeyIt goes like this ;
you take some small part of yourself,
fashion it into a paper boat.
Be careful with the delicate folds, -
I Grew Up A Shadow Girl, With A Man Outlined Inside Me
By Madison Godfrey(Content warning: references self-harm)
When I was fifteen in a toilet cubicle next to Talia,
I exclaimed IT’S HERE with my school skirt skimming -
(En)Joy rides in police cars
By Andrew GalanDad was certified dead Christmas day
septicaemia mixed by schizophrenia, alcohol, and restraint
in Long Bay maximum security psychiatric hospital
mum didn’t tell -
Not the Postage Stamp of the Christmas Island Pipistrelle!
By John KinsellaTo drag you back into viability
mainland scientists descended
to haul you into a breeding colony.
But vanishing was fast, and the last -
Western Line
By Winnie DunnRooty Hill Station
Mum drops me off under
the moldy overpass -
Litany: An Elegy
By Mark TredinnickFor the children
Each tongue, it has been wisely said, speaks galaxies.
And when a language dies, a world—and all that has -
The Portable Home
By Saba VasefiOnce, I went with the wolf to the desert
to take back honey from the bear
but in town my two eyes counted
only for one. At school -
-
Evensong
By Lachlan BrownO to be back in the southwest at dusk,
beneath the red streaks that sometimes
line the sky with spray tan enthusiasm.
This is the day worn thin, -
The widest wide shot
By Briohny DoyleThe widest wide shot. Opens on the sick
bed
in my heart where you lie
convalescing in red. -
Tilt
By Kate LilleyFonzies Fantasyland at 31 Oxford St
(now a disappointing IGA)
opened in 1979, next door to Patches,
a few months after the Ghost Train fire -
The Astronomer
By Fiona WrightJust stars, and grassland –
to stand on the limit of the world
and then climb upwards.
Here is his tower, -
the poem begins with a breathing reef
By Eunice Andradaa new cemetery blooms in the heat
we search for the last traces of colour -
Akimbo
By Melinda SmithI came to your image pool, seeking. I stood
at the lip. I gazed, and dipped, and snapped,
and bore away with me a woman, in a wardrobe,
in a white bra and panties, a pie plate eclipsing -
Karri (or, Slow Arrival in Karri Country)
By Renee Pettitt-SchippEucalyptus diversicolour
Denmark, WA
~ Written on Noongar Country with Noongar translations informed by Pibulmun Custodian, Wayne Webb.
Remote as a god -
PYROCENE TRIPTYCH
By Luke DaviesI: MAHOUT, YELLING
Waking up to still the wind was basic
narcissism and yet the same might be said
