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Craig Lincoln

Craig Lincoln is a poet from Toowoomba in Queensland, Australia, who especially enjoys writing Japanese-style poetry. His poems have been included in various poetry anthologies, including three of the Yamada Basho Memorial publications.

A Place For All

by Jo Whitelaw The grass is lush on the downward face yet I’m careful where I tread, for a thousand souls rest in this place. This island’s final bed. I progress through ancient stones and feel the kiss of ocean…

Postcards from Broome

by Kitty Owens Crocodiles: An ancient fear an undertow the salt to balance the sweetness of the ocean The Japanese Cemetery: A breeze in the bamboo comforts drowned Japanese divers swimming in red dirt Leaving the sea: Take the roaring…

Barwon Heads

by Kitty Owens The camp-ground rule is Walking Pace Only. We walk away the argument in the car. Shush, calm down, both of us. Time now for the strange labours of camping. Tightening ropes, plunging hands into ice, cradling tiny…

Wind, But Not In the Willows

by Allan Padgett So the easterly is blowing hard through the gum trees & local sky & it rips me from the sleep that is so hard to find. Transistor switched to on, News Hour from 4-5 am on the…

Gwen Bitti

this landscape capped layer upon layer in volcanic rock — I ponder the underlying life story of this sandstone cliff seagulls follow my fishing boat into the bay a squadron of pelicans snatching the catch across the lake a moorhen…

All New Life Showroom

All New Life Showroom by Wayne Pollard On the edge of transcendental space life is. Neon moons allude to the entrance of the All New Life Showroom. A velvet starfish points to a room and slips those that enter a…

Jo McInerney

a marker where the tallest tree once stood . . . too late to do more than regret McDonald’s Track, Thorpdale VIC Australia’s fabled inland sea… my illusions so determinedly held onto great emu clouds of dark matter outlined in…

Beachcomber

by Veronica Troup Our picnic rug once strewn across the spinifex arms wrapped, melting skin our footprints followed the tiny yes of seagull tracks our names scrawled deep in wet sand did not spell n o t g o o…

Keitha Keyes

Keitha Keyes lives in a tiny house in Sydney, filled with her husband’s model ships and her many antique irons and trivets. She enjoys writing haiku, senryu, gembun, tanka, kyoka, cherita, sequences and tanka prose. Her work is published in…