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Clouds
by Nicoletta Glod Blues clouds are passing slow Eyes black frames Doors of spells Soul moving shapes Pigtails of hope Rained on the down path The sky castle Lift soul stones Twisted twigs and rain Can’t stop The tempest flight…
Rodney Williams
reviewing poems before the winter solstice… blackbirds in a pair beneath Japanese maples help this rake tidy leaves Contingent Street, Trafalgar, VIC bird-count day inside this breeding season – magpies swooping in low from behind to keep our numbers up…
Gently Heaving (on having Menière’s)
by Yvette Stubbs I get up, fall down Breathe deeply, hold on Pretend I’m on the deck of a boat Heaving in a storm drenched sea I walk tall and short Side to side, stagger, sway Rise with the upward…
In The End Days: my father, Doug (note – content warning)
by Yvette Stubbs Dusty ant hills of once vibrant oil paint His easel, a padded chair His last painting a man on a ski slope, that barely changed that year This painting will always be his canvased unfinished symphony Two…
At Home with Vertigo
by Jan Napier inside my head a spin cycle that won’t click off. sideways lurch looping swoop eyes shut blurry whirl throat hosts acidic rise of tide. glance ceiling swings…
Estuary
by Jan Napier Offshore there’s a chop, gusting Southerly knocks tops off waves, shadows above water striping it indigo, navy, white finger of the lighthouse an admonition. Beachside anglers wince at wind driven sand stinging like sunburn, cast lines a…
Grand Junction Colorado
by Ross Jackson our Amtrak coming in through stealthy twilight most of an hour rounding red river bends in shadow from furrowed hills now gliding alongside the doomed cattle those trainsets abandoned at Grand Junction— skid row for locos and…
Half an hour of impressions
by Ross Jackson I scan the painted horses racing through the railway underpass at Richmond at the first corner I come to, ‘Traditional spanakopita’ chalked on a board outside Hellas Cakes local seniors already tapping drinks as I walk by…
Chau Chak Wing Museum, The University of Sydney
by Vanessa Proctor the squeak of footsteps in an empty hallway sudden chill alone in a shadowy room of coffins and mummies the curled and blackened hand donated in a biscuit tin its beckoning rim keeper of dark space Grecian…