'The Dying Art', a new poem by Michelle Cahill

Michelle Cahill
Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Afterwards, Jiah Khan slung her red silk dupatta
from a ceiling joist in her Juhu beach apartment,
my viral-stricken buck rattled to sleep curled by
my bed, and I woke to the cold body of silence –

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'In a symbolist mood', a new poem by Graeme Miles

Graeme Miles
Tuesday, 27 August 2013

Distant, untouchable night is stooping
over fingers of street-lights
that push her away. And the children of night?
The children of night are in hiding

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'Fairly Fine Tuned Schedule Wise', a new poem by Chris Wallace-Crabbe

Chris Wallace-Crabbe
Tuesday, 27 August 2013

It’s the stale argument once again
of course, old verbal horse,
about that ethnic fairy land
and all the dark-brown banksia men

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'Recuerdos de Bundaberg', a new poem by Michael Hofmann

Michael Hofmann
Wednesday, 26 June 2013

Did I fly there? I may have flown there.
Maybe in something with the specifications of a crop-duster.
The Sugar Coast. Everything comes with a name. A name and a nickname.
The Soaked Coast. Bundy. Blue rustle of cane. Home to Rum City Wrecking.

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'Swans', a new poem by Judy Johnson

Judy Johnson
Wednesday, 26 June 2013

When the talk is of angels
it’s tempting to think of them on the cold lake

small swan-shaped slivers of ice.               

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'Carousel', a new poem by Tracy Ryan

Tracy Ryan
Wednesday, 26 June 2013

Because in a foreign city even at eight
he needs the familiar nearby, to hitch
the gaze like the reins of that lacquered
horse to a fixed spot, in order to let loose,

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'The Tick', a new poem by Lynette Field

Lynette Field
Monday, 27 May 2013

Under the bathroom light I examine every particle of you.
A taxonomist with a specimen, I trail through
the topography of your naked back, classifying
whorls and curlicues. These signs lie beneath our daily clothing

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'30.11.12', a new poem by Ken Bolton

Ken Bolton
Monday, 27 May 2013

What am I going to write here?
Something, I hope. A year
or so since I last launched out

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Years ago when John Forbes praised
my later work, he said my Problem
of Evil was influenced by Tranter’s
Red Movie, and being younger and furiouser,
I rang Forbes and explained P. of E.

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'P.R.B.', a new poem by Cassandra Atherton

Cassandra Atherton
Sunday, 28 April 2013

I wish I had been painted by Millais. Maybe not as Ophelia in a tepid bath.
Perhaps as Lady Macbeth. Or Titania. Or Portia. Not Brutus’s Portia. Portia from
The Merchant of Venice. I used to make you sit on a little wooden stool and pretend
you were painting me. Stroke after stroke rasping against the canvas. I would

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