Opening
by J F GARROW To Rodney, and to my son Valve opens and train follows on through the high forest, No promises to anyone, just heat, and, also, stashed remembrances of other, older Smutty starts, and then, on, through the…
by J F GARROW To Rodney, and to my son Valve opens and train follows on through the high forest, No promises to anyone, just heat, and, also, stashed remembrances of other, older Smutty starts, and then, on, through the…
by JEREMY GADD As we passed the turn-off to Duri, which, according to locals, is synonymous with ‘dry’, we were surprised to see paddocks carpeted with yellow blooms of cultivated canola but, when past Tamworth, after climbing the Moonbi range…
by ZAC EATON Who searches for who? These tracks still steep The waves always held ya on the downfall. And the sand’s still soft. Feet go by themselves, From beach to beach Sniffing in the salt, Thinking of the words…
by FRED DUNCAN Gently, he was lowered on an autumn afternoon, Sun shining through the eucalypts, scent freed from their leaves, We laid flowers on Peter’s coffin, Croft played a Dylan tune, The harmonica wrung memories – tears wiped away…
by FRED DUNCAN The roar of flames in eucalypts, the fire-storm glare: A child runs through the sparks that shower the forest trails, She knows them well and stumbles in the choking smoke to where A wombat’s dug a burrow,…
by FRED DUNCAN Thunder reverberates beneath the overhang – Escarpment country, beyond the coastal plains; A band of people shelter, where Mimis danced and sang, Long they’ve gone, but their spirit still remains; Ochre traces on the sandstone tell how…
by NAOMI DUFF Sterile white walls White blood cells havoc causing Death, a part of me Trauma plays out inside me Living, a choice every day White walls inspire me Every day living challenged Life a part of me Overcoming…
by JANE DOWNING I do not remember growing up in a tent on the creek bank being tied to the clothes pole until I was conditioned by the length of the rope unable to move beyond its radius even when…
by JANE DOWNING Water arcs out from the river’s boat ramp the fire truck discharging its autumn tank Angled up, the hose shoots the water high falls: a torrent of stallions with misty manes A perfect parabola joins…
by JANE DOWNING The island rises in the wetlands an outcrop formed from felled trees not rock / looking rocky in the rippling pond (ducks landing, insects gulping the undersurface) The island rises to a peak against the skyline inviting…