Milk of the Moment
by HAZEL HALL i stand on the back tray of the old army truck grasping the rail with my sisters and cousins singing Uncle has wound his window up — cans are roped beside me the tray is earth, and…
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
Baw Baw Arts Alliance
supporting local Artists
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Longevity
by KELLY ASMUSSEN At night she walks – hobbling through the centre of town, recognising those who pass. Early on park benches, she sits and ponders, and smiles when she finds an eye – each encounter she knows. Afternoons rimming…
Lerida Estate
by TONY STEVEN WILLIAMS Breathless morning, a flotation of fog, my nostrils lemon cool, fresh and vibrant. Lake George is shrouded, but I see plenty closer by from my hilltop vantage; especially vines: autumn-gold, destined for leaf fall. The hills…
Leaving Home
by CHARNTEL CLEVELAND This home, it holds me. It heaves when I say I’m leaving. Halls lean in, stalling me, stained wallpaper restraining. Steam beads bathroom mirrors like a panicked brow. Desperate floorboards creak, bleating my name as I walk,…
Laughing Doves
by MICHAEL BUCKINGHAM GRAY set free from a steel cage set free from the settlement flying over the flatlands feeding, breeding, settling by a shrinking waterhole. swinging back after the sun has set. settling, settling by a steel dog bowl.
Kinross
by MARIA BONAR At dawn the stag appears on the misty hill near Loch Leven I watch silently from my window until he bolts I fancy I hear the prayers of a captive queen echoing down the years from the…
Insel Der Sonne
by HELEN ROSEMARY WOOD Invaders came from many places to claim this jewelled land; Greeks, Romans, Muslim Byzantine forces, Norman French, Vikings and Spanish kings, all cast their sights on Sicilian soil. Dark, rich and fertile from Etna’s bounty, red…
In the South Coast Light
by MARK MILLER 1. This morning the mistcomes apart before me,like fabric, like ashes ––revealing at low tidesea-wrack and bottle-caps,necklaces of purple sea-grapes,bluebottles and ribboned weed,and like part of an oldbicycle tyre twisteda bludgeoned eel,its hooked mouthhauled into a snarl…
I Wasn’t There
by CORAL CARTER I wasn’t there when a dried seed head traced a circle in sand when a hanging branch in the wind brushed small stones together and made a wall when out on the lake a smear of water…
How art is made in Paris
by ROSS JACKSON redeemed from his office like a debenture note Bernard mooches on the bateau burden of sun weight impresses him to his steamer chair and despite the Parisian clamour there his thoughts expand from current files to the…