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Gwen Bitti

Gwen Bitti was born in Calcutta, India. She now lives in Australia. Her haiku and tanka have been published in Australia and overseas. Her memoir, Between Two Worlds, was published by Ginninderra Press in May 2023. Gwen enjoys serving her…

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 Whitelaw

inlaid shells and stained glass saints embracing the light – a mission bell rings above souls at rest in hallowed ground St Barnabas Chapel, Norfolk Island

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…

Y Niwl

by Peter Roberts Y Niwl means the fog in Welsh Gaelic For the Celts, my stock, the fog made all unaware of time. Today the high country in Omeo is cloaked in cloud. Smokey greys and green. No sharp lines.…

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…

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…